


Amanuensis

by Yaxley



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Military, Minor Canonical Character(s), Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 01:26:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 35,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2754389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yaxley/pseuds/Yaxley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>/əˌmanjʊˈɛnsɪs/<br/><i>noun</i>. A person employed to write or type what another dictates or to copy what has been written by another, and also refers to a person who signs a document on behalf of another under the latter's authority.</p><p>Armin had proven himself loyal time and time again, and worthy of Erwin’s trust. He’d placed his life on the line without hesitation for their cause. If anyone had to scribe for him, it would be the efficient, dependable soldier Armin Arlert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Sir, you asked to see me?”

Erwin glanced up from the ledgers and nodded as Armin entered the office. It was not the first time the young soldier had come by his office and yet he looked nervous and expectant, and perhaps a little puzzled. The gears churning in Armin’s head were practically visible as he sought to solve the mystery of why he had been summoned. Erwin gestured for Armin to take a seat before the desk. 

“You have an eye for strategy,” said Erwin, waving away Armin’s embarrassed and obligatory protest. “Impressive for someone so young. The majority of soldiers your age tend to be preoccupied with other pursuits. That is not to cast aspersions regarding your interests.”

It was now Armin’s turn to politely wave aside the remark.

“Now, our next expedition is to an abandoned village along the western side of Maria. Preliminary reports suggest there are large storehouses of grain and possible herds of livestock turned feral.” Gesturing to the intended location on the large map of the known world tacked onto the wall behind him, Erwin continued, “Undoubtedly a few titans remain in the area, considering the general neglect unfortunately afforded the west, however they should not be a problem for the Corps. Previously displaced communities from the west will also be able to resettle in the area. I’d like to hear your thoughts.”

Silently musing over it for a few moments, a small smile crept onto Armin’s face. “It’s very generous of the executives to have granted us funds to solve the resource crisis and overpopulation.”

“It is,” Erwin confirmed, carefully scrutinising Armin’s reaction. “If successful…”

“If successful, it eliminates the need for the crown to subsidise welfare meals and they can return to taxing them.”

“Armin,” Erwin cut in swiftly, although vaguely amused. “You’re a little young for cynicism.”

Having the decency to refrain from shrugging, Armin nonetheless looked unapologetic. “Understood,” he said finally, glancing again at the map behind Erwin. Four years in the survey corps had hardened the young lad, evidenced by the grim, determined set of his mouth as he inspected the curvature of the topography. There was a cold ruthlessness in the way his eyes glazed over as he crunched numbers in his head. “Will the entire corps be deployed?”

“I asked you here for your thoughts, not so I could practice my oratory skills.”

A little colour flooded Armin’s cheeks. “Sir.” His gaze turned thoughtful as he considered the map for a fraction longer, then set unflinchingly as he spoke in a clear voice. “Our nearest safe headquarters is a full day’s hard ride from the target location therefore if we were to run into trouble, a fast retreat and request for assistance may not be possible. If we’re stranded, having a large corps to navigate would slow us down and drain resources quickly. And the titans…” Even though Armin had faced countless titans, there was still a twist to the edge of his mouth betraying his unease at encountering them once more. And yet his eyes gleamed bright for a second.

Erwin found it unsettling. “The titans…?” he prompted curiously.

“If the titans are too powerful, then having a large corps would allow for more decoy opportunities to lead the titans away from the main body of troops.” After an awkward pause, Armin blushed once more. “I-I mean…that is not to say…that we shouldn’t minimise our loses, of course! Perhaps we should send a smaller reconnaissance team to investigate the area first, which allows time for the rest of the corps to assemble at the headquarters, thus decreasing the amount of resources required upfront. Better than throwing everything into an expedition that may be entirely fruitless, after all.”

Although the faint shiver in the base of his spine threatened to take hold of him at the quiet calculation of Armin’s earlier assessment, Erwin nodded all the same. “Yes, that was precisely my initial plan. A small task force of more seasoned soldiers who can hold their own when engaged or during retreat. Now, one as astute as you must surely have an opinion on suitable candidates.”

“I do,” Armin replied immediately, straightening up. 

“Good,” said Erwin as he reached for a fresh scroll of parchment. He placed a stone carving at the edge as a paperweight and pulled closer his inkwell. From the corner of his eye he could see Armin scrutinising the paperweight. “They’re not so frightening when you see them everyday,” Erwin explained, turning the carving around so that the small titan figurine faced Armin. “Although I do tend to associate them with paperwork now so perhaps that accounts for the sense of foreboding.”

Armin chuckled weakly, a generous gesture that Erwin appreciated. 

“So, the teams— _Fuck!_ “ As he reached to dip in the tip of the quill, the back of his hand collided with the inkwell and knocked it clean off its stand. Black ink spilled rapidly across the parchment, leaking onto the ledgers. 

Armin jumped up in alarm and tried to use the cuffs of his shirt to stem the flow of ink. 

“Not your shirt,” Erwin muttered in exasperation although he knew it was far too late. The only appropriate item in reach was his rag for clearing the chalkboard, which he threw onto the desk to soak up the ink. He pressed the rag to his papers, black stains seeping up his fingertips and flooding underneath his fingernails. Eventually the ink settled and began to dry, leaving a pungent scent of oil and powder in the air. “My apologies for the language.” 

“It’s all right, sir,” Armin replied, sitting back down slowly but remained looking troubled.

“Although I do mean it about the shirt. This ink has a habit of clinging to the fibres,” Erwin explained distractedly. And that was when he saw that Armin was glancing at his empty right sleeve. A large stain had crept up the cuff too that must have occurred when Erwin was leaning over his desk in his haste to stem the flow of ink. “A minor inconvenience,” he said with only the faintest of grimaces. “But humbling, I think. Where were we? Yes, the list of candidates…”

The young soldier frowned then seemed to realise himself. He met Erwin’s gaze steadily, drawing in a deep breath to steel his resolve. His eyes were suddenly imbued with righteous determination and very, very blue. “Sir, it doesn’t seem right that you’re doing all the work,” he declared. “Please, allow me to scribe so that you might think less encumbered by such practical matters.”

Erwin raised an eyebrow. “If you’re suggesting that I’m not fit to write down a few lines…”

“N-no!” Armin stammered hastily. “Only that…” He let out a soft sigh. “For a moment, I forgot that you’d lost your arm, sir. So it startled me. And it must be taxing to use your non-dominant hand for such menial tasks.” 

“Ah.” Erwin looked down at the place where his right arm might have been. His attention shifted to his fingers, stained in ink and clumsily grasping the quill. “That’s very kind of you to offer, Armin, but unnecessary. The physician has encouraged me not to take shortcuts when it comes to developing the strength and dexterity of my remaining limb.”

“Yes, sir. Understood, sir.”

And yet, as Armin began to rattle off the names of suitable candidates, Erwin couldn’t help but notice just how ugly his penmanship remained despite the four years that had passed since his arm was bitten off, and he found his mind drifting to the unhelpful thought that yes, perhaps it would be so much _easier_ to just let Armin scribe for him.

Armin had tidy, clear handwriting; Erwin could recognise it immediately from the dozens of reports he’d received. The truth be told, he sometimes found it soothing to read Armin’s reports if only for their concise nature, clarity of thought and the occasional hint of speculation.

His gaze wandered to Armin’s long, slender fingers, folded neatly on the desk. The image of them remained on his mind long after his meeting with the young soldier had ended.

* * *

Stiff scratching of quill on parchment was the only sound in the otherwise silent room. A cursory glance out the window told him it was well beyond midnight; the last few groups of fatigued soldiers had retired to bed, leaving Erwin to work in peaceful quiet. The beginnings of a headache budded at the back of his skull but he pushed past it in drafting the mission proposal to send for approval from the treasury. His hand ached as it clenched repeatedly in the cold of his office. Casting a longing look at the fireplace for a moment, Erwin inhaled a deep breath through his nose. 

No, lighting a fire now would only make him all too comfortable. 

Progress was slow as he laboriously added the finer details to the proposal. The ideas had already formed in his head but setting them to paper was exhausting. Not for the first time, the frustration welled up inside of him at being so _exceedingly slow_ at writing now.

He thought back to Armin’s proposal to assist with scribing, a few nights prior. Impossible! He wasn’t some decrepit old man who needed help with basic everyday tasks. Even mounting a horse independently was a task that Erwin had easily accomplished after a day’s worth of undignified toppling onto his backside from great heights. 

And yet he’d be able to get through his paperwork with greater efficiency if there was someone to do the menial physical jobs, leaving him to focus on the important matters, such as carefully churning through fragments of strategy in his mind. 

Grappling with this felt more exhausting than the actual drafting of the proposal. He blinked hard a few times to clear his head and began afresh with the supply requests list. 

A limited meal allowance to reduce the pack weight of the horses who needed to be able to sprint long distances. Basic surveying equipment to assist in determining the precise location of the storehouses and feral herds. Two extra horses to run alongside them. Adequate feed for all the horses. The list seemed to stretch further and further down the scroll. 

Still, he mused, his mind wandering once more, Armin had proven himself loyal time and time again, and worthy of Erwin’s trust. He’d placed his life on the line without hesitation for their cause. If anyone had to scribe for him, it would be the efficient, dependable soldier Armin Arlert.

 _No_ , he told himself sharply, jabbing the tip of his quill too hard in the crossing of a _t_ so that it forced a small hole in the parchment. Throwing away his dignity was simply not something he was prepared to do even, if it meant painfully long hours of nighttime solitude ahead of him.

* * *

Seated on the opposite side of the desk, Armin presented his weeklong findings regarding the terrain of the journey to the west with potential routes marked on separate sheaves. “The most recent information was dated from six years ago during the Great Census, prior to the partial construction of this major road leading to the western regions.” He indicated a hand-drawn road, which led only half-way to their intended destination. “The routes that I propose all follow this road until its end.”

His uniform was clean and well-pressed as usual however _he_ seemed untidy. The young soldier appeared exhausted, with dark circles beneath his eyes and hair that fell limp to his shoulders. In spite of this, Armin was brimming with eager excitement as he looked to Erwin, pushing a few blond locks away from his face impatiently.

“Good work,” Erwin nodded, studying the maps he’d asked for. On the top of the pile was the map incorporating all known, documented and historically accurate information. Erwin placed it side by side with the last page, a more detailed map with predicted obstacles and speculation regarding the location of their targets. “How did you come to this conclusion?”

“If I may,” Armin started, leaning forward to flip the sheet over. A list of references was neatly written on the back. “However, most are from the inventory lists obtained during the refugee movement into the cities. Not only did they outline the items refugees were bringing into the walls but also their total assets, you see.” He returned the map to its upwards facing position. “The officers taking stock got lazy; they just jotted down whatever the refugees said, including the unnecessary village gossip, instead of sorting out the facts. ‘Such and such never looks after his livestock and they’re always getting mixed up with mine’, ‘his sheep often wander onto my side of the river’ and so on. Fortunately for us, it gives us a good picture of where the land is most fertile and therefore, where the feral herds are likely to have settled.”

Digesting this information quickly, Erwin finally gave a small, pleased smile. “Impressive. Was there mention of storehouses too?”

“Less so, mostly accounts of jealousy. However many of the former farmers suspected that a certain family was hoarding their harvest and evading taxes. I looked a little deeper into this family. Their declared income was almost nil. They claimed to have just broken even every year and yet the children were allegedly always impeccably dressed in new clothes. Once entering the city, they seem to have landed on their feet and were able to set up a new shop within a month, and almost immediately began trading in household goods.”

“That would have required a great deal of money upfront,” Erwin murmured then frowned as he glanced away from the maps and studied Armin’s face. “This is well beyond what I asked for.”

Shrugging but looking pleased all the same, Armin cast his gaze elsewhere. “It interested me, that’s all. I did end up wasting some time chasing up irrelevant leads though.”

“Nothing is ever irrelevant. This is good, useful work.” Casting the maps aside briefly, Erwin drew his attention to another stack of scrolls, worn and crumpled along the edges. “Now, these are reports from previous, similar expeditions. If it’s not too much trouble, could you sift through them and match the actual inventory lists to this requisition list drafted for the upcoming expedition, and add anything that may have been overlooked?”

It clearly wasn’t a question but an order. Nonetheless, Armin brightened at being given another task, albeit one requiring less initiative. “Of course, sir!”

“Here, allow me.” With a great sweep of his arm, Erwin cleared a space on the other end of his sprawling desk for Armin to work on. “Make sure to run additions past me first, however. I also made deliberate omissions.”

Nodding, Armin scooted his chair closer to the desk and hurriedly set to work, his gaze roaming over the sizeable number of scrolls with a mixture of trepidation and excitement. He untied and unfurled the first scroll with deft movements. 

Meanwhile, Erwin returned his focus to the maps Armin had produced. The western regions always tended to be less affluent than its eastern counterparts, perhaps because the terrain was unsuitable for large scale crop production. Soil there was fertile but rocky, which made toiling the land difficult and expensive. As far back as Erwin would remember, the area had been considered too wild and too varied for comfortable habitation. Woodlands clashed with marshes while navigating through a complex system of rocky outcrops and undulating landscape. Even from first impressions it became apparent that it would be a tiring journey with too many things that could go wrong. The team leaders would have a hell of a time shaping a large corps across the uneven ground. 

His fingers absently followed the curves of the roads marked on the simple map, and when it ran out, began skirting around the geographical markers to reach its target location. He did this several times, altering the routes with a flick of his finger. Then he compared them to Armin’s proposed route and was unsurprised that the young soldier had come to similar conclusions. A few of the impractical proposals could be discarded though so he set them aside for the time being, and started to sift through the remaining ones to determine the most appropriate course. 

Fast, efficient, not too taxing, and of course, safe. 

Gone were the days where he could throw a hundred soldiers into a mission for a mere scrap of information. This was a modern Survey Corps, he’d been told again and again. Every life counted. Repopulation was vital to the continued existence of the outer regions. _Don’t kill off prime breeding stock_ , was the rather blunt way it had been put to him. 

He glanced across the desk to one such specimen. Armin survived on wits rather than strength, which had the added bonus of remaining with him his entire life. Strength would last only as the body permitted. He watched, furtively, as Armin frowned at something on the paper with his tongue jutting out just a fraction to lick along the edges of his teeth. 

“Sir?” The frown was still on Armin’s face as he raised his head. “I understand that several of our cargo wagons are out of commission due to extensive damage…” he paused, clearing thinking about the disastrous run in they had with a group of abnormals a few months prior, “however surely we have more than two wagons at our disposal.”

“We do. We’re just not taking them. It will slow us down considerably. The key to this expedition is speed and accuracy. We’ll bring just enough supplies to tide us over,” Erwin replied. 

“We’re not going to retrieve the resources?”

At this, Erwin smiled. “How do you propose we transport ten heads of cattle back to Chlorva, let alone five hundred?”

Armin’s lips fell open as he uttered a soft, “Oh.” He ducked his head, returning to the inventory lists, his cheeks coloured red. “Reconnaissance, of course,” he mumbled to himself in a low tone. There was a hesitant note in his voice but he didn’t mention anything further. Nonetheless his gaze sharpened as he frowned at the words before him, silently mouthing them to himself. It was another ten minutes before he spoke up again, his mouth curved down unhappily. 

“Sir, may I increase the numbers on the requisition forms? Our current numbers within the corps have swelled since these previous expeditions and it could assist with morale and confidence to be well resourced.” 

Erwin matched Armin’s polite but firm gaze easily, having anticipated opposition to his plan. “It could,” he ventured carefully. “The aim of this expedition is not for the comfort of the soldiers, however.”

At this, Armin sucked in a sharp breath. “ _Sir_ ,” he started. 

“Our coffers are empty, Armin. The survey corps must learn to live without feather quilts and honeyed oats.” Erwin knew that he was being harsh, almost unnecessarily so. It was true that funding for the Corps had not increased in recent years to match the increased demand on workload, but he felt certain in his actions. If Armin was unable to accept that then perhaps Erwin had overestimated the soldier’s ability to think beyond the scope of the front line. “We must make do,” he said, in a gentler tone. “You clearly disagree with me.”

The frustration emanating from the young man was palpable. “It just seems counterintuitive to deliberately under-resource this expedition when it would serve us better to report decisive success and entice more financial backers. Raise confidence in their investment.” He stared at the requisition forms again. An annoyed expression passed him for a brief moment. 

Erwin considered explaining the situation in greater depth in a way that would make more sense for a soldier who had limited experience in overlooking the Corps as a machine. There were certain things that simply could not be taught, certain methods of addressing a situation that needed to come from an inherent understanding. Armin had proven himself as capable when formulating plans at the coal face but Erwin had squad leaders who could do the same. Armin would make a terrible squad leader; he had the brains but lacked the leadership skills. 

With a sinking feeling, Erwin realised that perhaps he’d been wrong about Armin altogether. “Every year our budget diminishes and yet we’re busier than ever. It may seem counterintuitive at first but it will damage us more in the long run. The numbers will stay as they are.”

The defiance that had flared up in Armin’s eyes slowly faded and churned into determination. He nodded wordlessly and continued making his way through the lists although he looked distracted and puzzled. Several times he glanced up and made as though to speak although inevitably bit his lip instead and continued on. He squinted and chewed on his tongue, flipping through the papers with increasing frustration. 

Truthfully, it was beginning to get on Erwin’s nerves. When it had gone on for long enough that the curfew bell sounded and footsteps trudged past his office as other soldiers retired to bed, Erwin sighed. “Armin, I’d rather you speak your mind than keep it all inside. There might come a time when keeping silent means a bad decision is left unchallenged, a decision that would prove disastrous. An ability to follow orders is not what makes a good soldier. And it is your job as a subordinate to be curious and to be willing to question my ideas if you feel that they are incorrect. Now, what is it that is bothering you?”

Armin sat painfully still although blushed dark scarlet. Under Erwin’s sharp gaze, he began to squirm, wavering. “It’s not that, sir,” he mumbled. 

Raising an eyebrow, Erwin set down his pen and waited. 

“It’s just that…” Armin clenched his hand into a fist and tensed his body as though an anticipation of a blow. “It’s just that I can’t read your handwriting!” he said in a rush, his eyes squeezing shut. 

Erwin stared at him. 

“I’m sorry, sir! I’ve been trying to match the way you shape your letters but I can’t figure it out. “

“Oh.” Erwin picked up his pen again and looked at the way his fingers curled around the shaft, feeling the stiffness that shot up his hand. Faintly, he asked, “Is it that bad?”

Armin grimaced as though the question caused him physical pain and showed Erwin the forms, waiting apprehensively. Silence descended upon the office.

When faced with the evidence, Erwin burst into laughter. Suddenly all of Armin’s glowering and puzzling, annoyance and sighing made sense. He vaguely recalled finalising the forms in the early hours of the morning when the urge to collapse in bed mounted with each word scribbled. “My apologies, Armin,” he chortled. “You must think me very presumptuous.”

“Ah, no sir,” Armin replied hurriedly, plastering on a fixed smile. 

With effort, Erwin schooled his laughter and shook his head. “And after I gave you that lecture about speaking up.” 

“Um, it was pertinent, I think.” Armin licked along his bottom teeth again. “Sir, _please_ allow me to fill out these forms, at the very least.”

Erwin pressed a calloused knuckle to his mouth to stop from grinning. “All right,” he said finally. “That is a…fair request.” 

He handed Armin a fresh requisition form and tried to decipher his own handwriting, reading it aloud. After only a few items, he began to acutely understand Armin’s prior frustration. If he were to be entirely honest with himself, his penmanship was absolutely horrendous. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed Armin struggling not to smirk knowingly as Erwin paused over a particularly illegible scribble that could have been anything from ‘soiled sleep clothes’ to ‘salt and pepper shakers’. 

“Stationery supplies, I think,” Armin piped up quietly, his shoulders shaking as he jotted it down in his precise, open-looped handwriting.

“Thank you. Stationery supplies. Damn this to hell,” muttered Erwin. He gave a tired smile that Armin returned. “Rolled oats, four kilograms.” After a short, considering pause, he amended, “Make that honeyed oats. And three cans of preserved fruit.” 

“Careful sir,” Armin tittered, giving him a rather mischievous look. “You’re spoiling us.”

Erwin raised an eyebrow. “ _Plain_ muesli bars. One box,” he announced pointedly. Armin hastily shut his mouth. 

“Actually, add eighty yards of reinforced rope. Perhaps we could corral a few of the livestock as an indicator of their nutritional state and general quality of the meat,” he said. When Armin didn’t make any indication that he’d heard, Erwin paused. “Armin?” 

Armin was worrying his lip again, looking troubled. He seemed to struggling to hold himself back. “What do you gain from this?” he burst out before he could stop himself. Hitching a shallow breath, he leaned forward on the desk and looked to Erwin imploringly. “I’m trying to make sense of this but I can’t figure it out. Sir, just what is your intention?” 

“Armin.”

“It’s almost as though you want us to fail.” 

Erwin pressed his lips together.

“That’s it, isn’t it? You want this expedition to fail,” Armin whispered. He barked a short, incredulous laugh while his gaze hardened. In that moment, he became eerily reminiscent of his friend Eren, whose furious glare could felt miles away. 

“And what good would that achieve?” Erwin asked softly. 

Armin’s face crumpled. “I don’t know,” he said in a small voice. “I want to trust you, sir, but I don’t understand what you’re trying to do. If we fail then it’d reflect badly on the Corps and make us look incompetent. The investors will pull their backing and the nobles will keep chipping away at our funding even more until we’re barely functional, until we can’t even train our new recruits, and if something should happen…we’d be like a starved dog, unable even to defend itself against scavengers let alone all of humanity!”

“And by that stage, it will be too late.” Erwin concluded for him. “And we’d lack the strength to even ask for a second chance.”

“So why stage a failure now?” Armin demanded. “Why pretend that we’re weak?”

“Armin, the Survey Corps has never been weak. It will never be weak. We will always fight down to the last soldier and we will always make it because that is our job. That is what we do, for the sake of humanity. We’re always going try and make it work.”

“We’ll keep going regardless,” Armin echoed quietly. He seemed to catch the end of an idea and was slowly reeling it in. His expression turned pensive. “We’ll always make it work. We _make do_. No-one will ever know how bad things really are until we’re so far down the sewer there’s no daylight in sight. Unless…unless we show them.”

“Nobody cares about cracks in the wall until the roof starts falling down.”

“And by then, it’s too late to get out the plaster.”

“Precisely.”

Armin straightened, his eyes gleaming with realisation. “You want to draw attention to the fact that we’re under-resourced, and that being under-resourced is affecting our work. That’s why you’re being so stringent on what we can bring on this expedition, to ensure that we fail, because otherwise the Corps will find a way to pull through.”

“One of the drawbacks to having capable soldiers.” Now that Armin had seen past his plan, Erwin allowed himself to relax. His instincts had been right, after all. He’d just needed to give the young man a little push in the right direction. But it was Armin’s dogged pursuit for the truth, the unwillingness to accept things at face value that had impressed Erwin the most. 

“For too long we’ve insisted to presenting reports that minimise damages and maximise success, under some misguided impression that that is what they want to see. And every year they cut our funding but still we pull through, so they think it’s all right to keep cutting our funding. Strip it down to its bare bones. The lords are never going to part with more money than they need to; they will always try and spend the smallest amount to keep the system going. Rather like how we pay soldiers the smallest amount that they’re willing to tolerate to remain in service.”

“Isn’t that a gamble though?”

Erwin idly wondered if it would be better to encourage Armin to think from a more proactive stance rather than being reactive all the time. “Of course it is. But progress cannot happen unless we take risks.”

It was clear from his hesitant expression that Armin didn’t understand everything that Erwin was hoping to achieve but he nodded nonetheless.

“Are you agreeing with me because it makes sense or do you just want to finish up here quickly and head to bed?”

Armin chuckled. The nervousness emanating from him seemed to have lessened since they began. “I’ll admit it sir, it’ll take some time for me to see the bigger picture but what you’ve just told me sounds reasonable. In the meantime, shall we move on with the requisition forms?”

“Yes, let’s.” 

Holding back a sigh, Erwin returned to sorting through the writing on the forms as Armin jotted them down. However, with Armin occasionally supplying suggestions with an eye on previous inventory lists, the task stretched on for only another half hour or so. By the end of the evening, the final requisition form had been placed into the courier post box and the first draft of a mission statement was complete. 

When he thought that Erwin wasn’t looking, Armin stifled a yawn by pretending to be busy with straightening his boots. From the corner of his eye, Erwin watched as Armin’s long blond hair partially obscured his face as he bent down, and fanned past his shoulders to reveal a glimpse of naturally pale neck gleaming golden in the dimming lantern light.

“It’s best that you get some rest now,” said Erwin, turning to tidy up his desk. He heard Armin stand and carefully push in his chair.

When Erwin looked up again, Armin was lingering by the door. “Thank you, sir, for this opportunity. It’s my honour to support the Survey Corps in any way possible.”

“Thank you for your help, Armin.” Erwin hesitated for a moment then gave small smile. His pride be damned. “If it’s not too much trouble, I might call upon your assistance to scribe some documents.”

At this, Armin beamed and nodded.


	2. Chapter 2

The team selected for the initial reconnaissance mission assembled in the spartan conference room decorated only with utilitarian chairs around a large table. Erwin surveyed each one carefully as they sat restless with anticipation. Over the past fortnight, the rumour mills had been grinding all the way from the training grounds to the outposts far from the walls. It was only when Armin burst through the door, looking dishevelled and abashed, and clutching at scrolls and maps, that Erwin commenced his explanation. 

“So we’re literally going to count sheep.”

“I swear, if you fall asleep on me…!”

A ripple of amusement flowed through the room, breaking the initial tension. When put so bluntly, the entire enterprise did appear somewhat contrived but it placed the soldiers at ease. 

“More or less,” Erwin agreed when the murmuring died down. “For your mission, I’d like for you to work closely with Armin regarding the logistics and strategy. Together we have formulated a plan that we believe will suit your individual styles. I will now pass it over.”

Erwin stepped aside to make way for Armin at the head of the table. 

The past week had been headache-inducing blur of wrestling proposed routes through estimated terrains, punctuated only by bitter cups of coffee and too-short bursts of renewed energy. Armin had remained with him throughout, dutifully scratching out each permutation of the plans and silently, subtly, slipping in his own corrections when Erwin’s concentration threatened to peter out. 

“This is the proposed route you will take.” 

Armin unfurled the large scale map along the length of the conference table as the soldiers leaned in to inspect it in detail. Known geographical features were marked in black ink while the guesswork was rendered in blue. Potential threats were clearly detailed in red. 

“Our primary objective is the village of Bruxen. Population prior to the fall of Wall Maria was 196, primarily comprised of self-sufficient farming families. The boundaries are unclear however what is evident is that it covers a large distance. They appear to have survived this way for several decades. In the drought of 837 there were few requests for assistance from this village therefore we have conjectured that it was custom for residents to store large amounts of surplus food.”

Allowing time for the information and all its implications of abundant wealth to sink in, Armin glanced quickly at Erwin. He widened his eyes slightly, as though expecting Erwin to interject. At the pause, the other soldiers also turned their attention to Erwin.

“Go on,” said Erwin, adding what he hoped was an encouraging tone to his voice.

Shakily drawing in a breath, Armin returned to the maps and continued with his explanation. A few of the soldiers gave Erwin occasional lingering looks but Erwin steadfastly ignored them. Many of the soldiers were almost a decade older than Armin and used to taking orders from above. Despite Armin’s new unofficial capacity by Erwin’s side, he still held the rank of an ordinary corporal. Even if Armin had been promoted it likely wouldn’t have mattered: soldiers wanted experience and authority, and Erwin was acutely aware of the fact that Armin was still hopelessly young, in the eyes of the others, in spite of his service throughout the war against the titans.

Under the scrutinising eyes of the more experienced soldiers, Armin hunched into himself. His hair covered his eyes as he leaned across the table to indicate out the location of the silos. 

One of the veteran soldiers, Dieter, who’d been slaying titans before Armin even joined the Corps, suddenly spoke up. “Doesn’t it seem wrong that we’re just going to take their stuff?”

Faltering, Armin looked up and nervously pushed his fringe away. “I suppose the interior considers it debt repayment. For the welfare, I mean.”

“A head of cattle for every stingy morsel of stale bread? Hardly seems fair.”

“Well, the value of things depends on the situation. At the time, resources were very limited and…”

Another one of the soldiers gave a derisive snort. “Convenient,” she muttered under her breath while the fellow next to her grunted. “And how much of what we recover is even going to trickle down to us?” 

“That’s not really a matter for us…” Armin started, shooting another nervous glance in Erwin’s direction. 

Every instinct screamed at him to take control of the situation but Erwin simply blinked at him impassively. He watched Armin intently, waiting. 

It was clear that Armin had it in him to hold his own ground, that much was clear from the way he would openly challenge Erwin's ideas in the office but faced with the disgruntled, almost antagonistic stares of the hardened soldiers Armin's usual articulate rebuttals faded on his tongue.

“Who the fuck cares anyway,” the only soldier who was in Armin’s age range announced loudly. Erwin was about to caution him until he remembered that the soldier, Jean, was a close friend to Armin, and despite his insouciant manner seemed to be emphatic in drawing attention. “You old folks just love bitching. You’re starting to sound like my mother.”

The other soldiers rounded on Jean. “That’s easy for you to say. Back in our day, we had to survive on half rations for months at a time!”

“Oh man, remember how sometimes the blankets weren’t even washed?”

“I haven’t survived this long just to play errand boy to some rich, greedy bastard.”

Sensing that things were quickly spiralling out of hand, Erwin cleared his throat. At the same moment, Armin slammed his hand onto the table, causing the others to jump and fall silent in alarm.

“If you take moral issue with this mission then you are more than welcome to excuse yourself from this conversation,” Armin declared in a hard voice. His hand curled into a fist. “The Survey Corps has been given an opportunity to prove our usefulness, even if it means doing the bidding of the interior, even if it means increasing the wealth of those already wealthy. They’re the ones who feed us, clothe us, and keep us going, so if they want us to go and muster up herds then that is what we will do. Because if we say no now, they’re _not_ going to bother asking us again!”

Armin pinned each soldier with a fierce glare, issuing his own challenge. Again, a few of them looked to Erwin for direction but finding no indication either way, they eventually backed down. Erwin felt a thrum of approval flicker up inside of him as Armin straightened with renewed confidence.

“When it becomes public knowledge how much is out there just waiting to be collected, do you really expect the other military branches to sit by idly, patiently waiting for their share?”

Dieter, who had kicked off the discontentment, eventually grunted, backing off. “Getting clean blankets was probably more to do with Captain Levi though,” he grumbled. 

A couple of them sniggered. 

“Yes, most likely,” snapped Armin. “I am grateful and proud that this Corps is extremely proficient in hygiene.”

Jean openly chortled. “Shit, Armin, was that a joke?”

The others soon joined Jean, laughing. Erwin stifled a sigh of relief. Despite his misgivings at having thrown Armin into the deep end, it was important for the young soldier to get a taste of what it was like to work with a completely new team. Armin had no trouble taking control within his circle of friends but facing a hardened, more cynical crowd was another thing. It wouldn't be all hard work though: Erwin had chosen this mission precisely because it comprised of veteran soldiers who did not need to be hand-held through every little detail and who could fill in the blanks calmly under pressure.

“Let’s move on,” Armin muttered, launching into an outline of potential obstacles and ways to circumvent them. 

The soldiers eventually settled with a modicum more respect reflected in their attentive silence. 

It would be a while before they accepted Armin completely but it was enough for the moment. Erwin himself remembered facing the same difficulty when he’d been promoted ahead of others older and more experienced, and the constant uphill struggle of winning acceptance and respect. It would come with proven actions, Erwin knew, and in spite of shaky starts, he was certain that Armin could be relied upon to deliver.

* * *

“Hey Erwin, your protégé is even creepier than you.”

“He’s passionate,” Erwin replied without looking up from his desk. Paperwork seemed to be the only thing that he ever did; his only taste of the soil outside came when his officers entered with their reports, fresh from running their drills. He breathed in the earthy scent with no small amount of longing and for a moment, sharply remembered the feeling of wind slipping through his hair as he swooped in a deep arc toward the nape of a titan, the cables of his manoeuvre gear stretched taut but holding steady…

Levi eyed him with dark scepticism and lounged deeper into the sagging corner of Erwin’s couch. If he was intrigued that Erwin hadn’t corrected him regarding Armin as a protégé, he hid it well. Then again, it was hardly a surprise considering Levi himself had looked to Armin for bursts of tactical inspiration when the young blond was on his now-disbanded Special Operations Squad. “Sure, if passionate is a synonym for creepy as green shit,” he said, drinking leisurely from his teacup.

Taking Erwin’s noncommittal grunt as a sign to continue, Levi pursed his lips. “His intensity is freaking out Pere. And some of his ideas… People used to call you delusional, right?” His hesitation was only for a fraction of a second but it was enough to give Erwin pause. Levi rarely hesitated. 

Erwin sighed, tossing aside his quill in favour of his own cup of tea. It was one of the expensive selections from Levi’s rabidly guarded stash, probably worth more than his entire yearly salary. Not that that meant much. He took a cautious sip, his gaze meeting that of his subordinate although he knew that term existed in theory only; he saw Levi as an equal after everything they’d been through. Except Levi didn’t have to deal with as much political weaselling and bureaucratic nonsense. “He fell under your command for the best part of two years. Must be all your doing.”

Saluting Erwin with his teacup, Levi cracked a faint grin. “Huh. I’ll take the credit for his genius then.”

The pair lapsed into companionable silence as they nursed their tea. When the final list of the candidates selected for the initial reconnaissance mission had been released with the captain’s name prominently left off, the only person who was unsurprised had been Levi himself. Part of Erwin thought that Levi was in fact rather relieved, given the other man hadn’t once shown any interest in the mission beyond wanting to know which soldiers would be absent from duty to reorganise the maintenance rosters. Perhaps he was tired too. Levi did tend towards leaving the officer’s meetings the moment the minutes concluded and had taken a greater interest in training the newer recruits than spending time with the veterans. 

(“I’m a fucking old man now” was his terse reply when Erwin had brought up this subject, as though it explained everything. And it did, in a way.)

“Hey,” Levi said, after a while, in a voice that was heavy with derision. “Is that a new inkwell?”

“Thank you for your status report, Captain. Now go bother someone else.”

Making absolutely no move to get up from the couch, Levi snorted. “It’s ugly as fuck.”

* * *

The bells rang from atop the wall gates as the double column of mounted soldiers trotted through. Unlike when the Survey Corps rode out in its entirety, only a small crowd of the locals had gathered, mostly younger children or those with family members within the corps, which suited Erwin just fine. They’d decided to keep the reception as low key as possible, not wanting to ramp up too much expectation. In the event the mission failed to bring back good news, the fewer locals glimpsing the downcast faces of disappointment the better.

Erwin saluted in so much as he could, with his left hand tucked neatly behind his back and what remained of his right arm crooked vaguely towards the centre of his chest, as they passed him and held it steadily it until the last rider was well beyond the gate. As he turned, the rattle and clang of the gates being lowered shut rang through the streets. A carriage was waiting for him by the side of the road but from the corner of his eye, he saw a glimpse of blond hair that was becoming familiar. The silhouette of the trio together was a reassuring sight; Erwin was glad that the young soldier had his two closest friends to support him through what would undoubtedly be a difficult day. Harking back almost a decade, Erwin remembered the nerves that gripped him on the first day of a mission he’d prepared but not participated in, and how those nerves had threatened to render him insensible from the dread and worry.

That evening, there was a familiar knock on the door to the office. Armin entered and gave him a polite if wane smile, inclining his head in greeting as he set down his belongings and took the seat across the desk. Given the events of that morning, and the fact that it was also past their usual arranged time - a glance at the clock told him it was almost ten o’clock in the evening - Erwin frowned slightly as the young soldier appeared content to settle in. 

“I seem to recall saying to take the day off.”

“If you’re working, then so am I,” Armin replied simply, his pen poised over a fresh piece of parchment. “Sorry for being late.”

Erwin eyed him for a moment longer, relenting when it seemed that Armin would not budge. Perhaps tackling bureaucracy would be a sufficient distraction. “No, not at all. Let’s draft those contingency despatches for the commander in chief.”

The work was straightforward enough. There were plenty of old guidelines already set in place in the event of an emergency, therefore it was merely a matter of adapting them to the plan in terms of numbers, squads and locations. The Survey Corps had previously adopted a rather ruthless stance regarding soldiers left behind; if they could survive an attack, they could survive the trek back to base. The mission was everything. No cost was too great. The only exception had been their most precious commodity, Eren, but even these days the young titan shifter was expected to take his turn riding up front, at the spearhead instead of being constantly buffeted by a defensive shield. 

Keeping momentum, however, proved a challenge. When it felt as though they were simply unpicking all previous work, Erwin stood to make his way to the far cabinet between his shelves of filing. Armin continued reading over past reports, apparently unaware that Erwin had stopped speaking, let alone moved. 

He started when Erwin placed a tumbler in front of him. An amber liquid inside glimmered under the lamplight. 

“Let’s take a break. You’ve been reading the same paragraph for the past five minutes.” He sat back into his chair and took a slow mouthful of his own drink, savouring the warmth that settled over his tongue. “No need to look at me like that; there’s nothing to figure out here.”

Casting a final, frustrated look at the papers before him, Armin sagged his shoulders in defeat. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m afraid I haven’t been very helpful today. I’ll have this done for you by tomorrow evening. Earlier, possibly, if the meteorologists agree to grant us a meeting regarding the expected weather conditions.”

Erwin gave him pointed look. “I said, let’s take a break.”

Flushing red, Armin drew in a steadying breath and held his glass as though one might handle an explosive. After taking his cue from Erwin, he took small, polite sip. The only reaction he had to the liquor was a sharp exhalation.

“Not the best, I’m afraid, but likely better than the lighter fluid passed around by your peers. Anyway, today’s been eventful for you and it only seems right that we toast to a successful mission.” Erwin lifted his drink, and Armin hastily followed. “Who knows, maybe the prices of fresh beef will come down and we’ll get meat stew for dinner. It’s been a long time since we’ve had that. Three months, if memory serves me correctly.”

“Yes, three months, sir. I-I didn’t realise being the commander meant having responsibilities over the kitchens too. Working with you has already confirmed the enormity of your post but…”

Erwin hid a snort. “If I had jurisdiction over the meal plans, boiled sprouts would not form such as large proportion of every dinner. They seem to defy the theory of supply and demand. I’ve never known anyone to enjoy eating them and yet more over them appear on my plate each evening. It truly is a mystery.”

“You mean, you eat the same as us?” Armin looked aghast, and a little disappointed as though one of his illusions had just been shattered. Erwin found it vaguely amusing. “But you’re the commander! Surely you must get something bit nicer, like a steak, or that slice that Commander Pixis likes.”

“Have you learnt nothing from drawing up those budgets? Besides, it wouldn’t do for me to have foie gras every night while the troops struggle with cracked harness straps and broken cable retractors.” Deliberately omitting that the rich food in fact disagreed with his stomach after months of bland meals geared primarily towards supplementing nutritional value was something that Erwin felt quite justified in doing. “Commander Pixis, on the other hand, is in the unique position of protecting the interests of several prominent lords, who are all undoubtedly eager to demonstrate their gratitude.”

The glib tone however had the opposite effect on Armin, who lapsed into a troubled silence and sipped absently at his drink, a small frown creasing between his eyebrows. He stared deep into the tumbler as though it might reveal some truth yet muddled. “Despite what I told the soldiers when they voiced their own concerns, I too have my own reservations about our role. More specifically, is it right to lay claim to the assets of others only to re-sell them to the original owners for triple the price?”

It was a subject that too had played on Erwin’s mind although he’d taken a more pragmatic approach. “The recovery of resources is meant to aid in resettlement of the colonies. That land came under ownership of the crown at the declaration of war on the titans. The villagers consented to this agreement well-informed of this fact—”

“But you know perfectly well that it’s plain robbery.”

“Armin.”

Drawing in a heavy breath, Armin curbed whatever torrent of words he had wanted to truly say as he remembered where he was and who he was talking to. His free hand clenched into a fist, the other gripping the tumbler tightly. When he gathered himself, he spoke in a softer voice but the anger was still evident in his tone, bubbling under the surface. 

“The colonies would be better served if they were simply permitted to return to their homes after we’ve cleared out the titans in the area. Of course, we’re not the ones laying down these policies but in enforcing them we’re condoning these actions. We’re playing an implicit role in this tyranny. We’re merely swapped titan oppressors for human ones.

“It’s not just the lords anyway,” Armin amended bitterly. “Even the common people within Wall Rose called us burdens when the wall first fell in Shiganshina; they openly accused the refugees of stealing food straight out of their plates. Surely a man would have no need to steal if his belly was full.”

Considering Erwin had rode at the front of the ‘Reclamation project’ that discarded a quarter of the entire population, he knew all too well the root of Armin’s seething dissent. It was different when he led the Survey Corps to fight the titans — they volunteered their service. In the end, the condemned civilians had had to be chased out of the gates, even the ones already resigned. “The perception of needs is based on desire and greed — money, power, prestige. Some would rather starve if it means being able to afford a handsome coat at each seasonal ball, and others would rather welcome death than encounter the face of humiliation.”

“And yet they dare to call the deaths of the brave soldiers in the Survey Corps meaningless!”

“Priorities,” Erwin replied quietly. “Manage them and you manage the man.”

“So maintaining existing personal wealth is more important than laying the foundations for future prosperity? The people will soon starve if unable to return to the land — knowledge that will be lost if this generation of experienced farmers are allowed to perish inside these city walls. How many of us can claim to have that critical information regarding the cultivation of crops necessary for our survival?”

Realising that they’d begun debating a different point altogether, one that he had little control over, Erwin hesitated and cautiously steered it back towards the present. 

“At any rate, what is a nobleman going to do with a herd of cattle? They require a great deal of land, they’re foul-smelling and noisy, and unattractive animals for the most part. And they also require a lot of careful maintenance if they are to be kept in optimal condition. No, for the nobles it would make more sense to sell the cattle and simply purchase the meat. He’s not interested in offal or tough and grisly cuts of the animal, after all. The cow’s only as good as the choice tender cuts. It will still be profit.” 

With an inward groan, he noted that for all his insistence not to talk about work, he was again discussing the mission. 

“Anyway, it’s not entirely true that the commander subsides entirely on boiled sprouts,” he conceded with a small smile. “I have had occasion to sample the culinary specialties of Sina with thanks to my gracious hosts at the Capital, although not enough to have created a habit, I hope.”

Simmering indignation continued in Armin’s gaze, something that Erwin suspected would never truly dislodge itself. That intensity mirrored his own all those years ago, although Erwin’s problem had always been with titans and less so with other humans. It stirred unease inside of him. 

“I’ll take you along next time I’m called to the capital,” he went on pointedly. “Perhaps you’ll acquire a taste for fine wine and roasted pheasant, and change your tune regarding the matter. They say a thief once became so enamoured by sweetened plum ice cream that he gave himself up, just so he may have another taste of it as his final meal before execution.” 

Armin eventually returned a tight-lipped smile. “That’s ridiculous. They can hardly afford to feed bread to the prisoners, let alone ice cream.” He smothered a soft sigh, hastily constructing a neutral front once more. “Thank you for the offer, sir. I’m not sure that pheasant will be to my liking. _Swan_ , on the other hand…”

Erwin snorted into his drink despite himself while Armin quirked a small smirk around his own more collected sip. 

Under the warm glow of the lamplight and the settling, companionable silence, the tension wrought in Armin’s shoulders slowly dissipated. 

Eventually, Armin spoke again in a softer tone, “I’m sorry, sir, for my outburst. I just don’t want this mission to be in vain.” He had deflated somewhat, the dark circles under his eyes seeming to bruise all the more prominently as fatigue finally struck home. There was no embarrassment or shame in it, just simple acknowledgement. It made him looks more human, almost vulnerable, and less like a secretarial machine. 

“It’s normal to worry,” replied Erwin, waving aside the apology. “Not worrying usually means that there’s something you’ve forgotten.”

“Are you worried too?”

The litany of concerns he had regarding the expedition immediately flooded the forefront of his mind but he ignored the majority of them. Perhaps it was simply growing far too late but Erwin muttered quietly, almost to himself, “Even now, hundreds of titans remain within the walls and they’re still as dangerous now as they were before we learnt of their true nature. Perhaps they’re even more dangerous now because of it. We can’t allow ourselves to be too confident until the titans have completely gone away.”

Although neither of them spoke for a long time, Erwin knew that they shared the same thoughts. Destroying the source of the titans had not been an easy task and many of their colleagues had died in that operation. Their gazes met and for a moment, there was something more that passed between them, more than simply a commander and his subordinate. The edge of Armin’s mouth lifted, slightly, before he looked away. 

Erwin, too, turned his gaze elsewhere. It was an odd feeling that coursed through him, something like the comforting warmth upon returning from a particularly harrowing expedition. “There were some who believed the titans were corporeal manifestations of humanity’s sins and that every monstrous act committed within the walls gave birth to a new titan beyond. The greater the sin, the larger the titan.”

Armin stilled for a second, inhaled sharply and then drained the remainder of his drink in a fluid motion. “What do you think, sir?”

“Well, I never believed it personally but it was an intriguing thought. Certainly built upon the fear that titans would never go away. But maybe it’s not that each act equals a titan, but that every titan is representative of a person’s sins and as their sins grow, so does the titan. Maybe that’s why there are different size classes of titans.”

His attention fell upon the carved titan paperweight that sat squatly on his desk. Not for the first time, the urge to cast it away snaked through and left him cold. When he looked up, he found the sharp intensity of Armin’s gaze fixed squarely upon him once more. 

It was dark, fuelled by some deeper impulsion, full of insinuation. 

“What size would our titans be?” said Armin, a hint of admonishment in his voice.

Erwin wondered this question deep into the restless night as Armin’s voice echoed again and again in the darkness.

* * *

Once more, the gate bells tolled as the sound of hooves clattered down the cobblestones towards the Survey Corps district office in Chlorva, a cramped space with low ceilings and creaking floorboards, buttressed by industrial workshops below and thus prone to the thick dust of powdered metals. However its close proximity to the city’s outer gates and sprawling stables outweighed the disadvantages. Over the past few days, members of the Survey Corps had arrived in preparation for the expedition. Even with the sudden surge of new recruits at the last intake, the soldiers all fit comfortably in the Garrison barracks. 

The reconnaissance team had left with eight soldiers and returned with eight, plus an irritable but healthy-looking cow. The citizens passing by paused to stare unashamedly at the beast, hunger and jealousy marring their gaunt faces. 

“Commander,” the squad leader greeted, dismounting and giving a crisp salute. 

“Pere,” Erwin nodded. “Ensure your men and horses are rested then report to me.”

While Pere meted out his orders, Erwin silently observed the expressions on the rest of the reconnaissance team. They appeared to be in good spirits and relieved to be within the walls once more, although there was an undercurrent of hesitancy as though unsure of how Erwin would react. From Erwin’s experience this could only mean two things: either they had deviated from orders or were unable to complete the mission. He wondered which it would be. 

Other members of the Corps had also gathered to welcome back their colleagues. Armin was not one of them; he was where Erwin had last seen him that morning, in the antechamber poring over freshly delivered meteorology reports, but the young soldier brightly jumped to his feet in anticipation at Erwin’s call.

It didn’t take long before Pere entered the makeshift office, saluting once more although less formally than before. He nodded to Armin and settled in the chair opposite the desk. 

“Everyone is accounted for. One injury sustained — Lehring’s cracked a few ribs but nothing too serious. A few general scrapes. And we brought back a friend,” Pere half-grinned. “Probably should’ve named her an honorary member of the Corps considering she managed to dodge a couple titans too.”

Erwin didn’t return the grin just yet. “The status of the village?” 

Hastily sobering, Pere cleared his throat. He launched into a succinct report while Erwin listened silently and Armin scribbled away. The team had found the village without much difficulty and were able to effectively evade the few titans in the area. As expected, the village was deserted although the silos were in tact and full. 

“There were only five farms of moderate size so we got through them pretty quickly. I was expecting more, considering the amount of grain we found,” Pere shrugged. “Maybe three tonnes.”

“But the grain is unspoiled?”

Pere nodded. “Good quality yield too by the looks of things. We brought back samples as requested — mostly oats and barley. There was wheat too but we lost the majority of it on the way back.”

“Why was—” Erwin started to say when Armin cut him off. 

“You mentioned five farms. Is there any chance that you missed some, maybe in the outlying areas? It’s just that five farms would be barely enough to feed the entire village, let alone have so much surplus.”

“Trust me, we combed the village thoroughly. It’s not very big: you could see from one end to the other.” Pere unfurled his map, which had corrections and comments written all over, and pointed to the village. “We started from the eastern approach here then spread out to cover more ground. Most of the farmland is here by the forest, and that’s where the silos are located too. The main village ends here at this rocky outcrop, at the foot of the mountain. That’s where Lehring sustained his injury — his horse stumbled pretty badly on the rocks — we weren’t going to punch out any further.”

“Part of the mission was to complete a full reconnaissance on the area surrounding the village as well,” Armin persisted sharply, narrowing his gaze upon the empty patches on the map. “Having faced potential evidence that things didn’t add up in the village, it was nonetheless decided to fall back? That leaves this entire region a virtual unknown.”

Pere’s back stiffened as he pointedly addressed Erwin alone, “Sir, it was my judgement that the safety of my colleagues took priority over playing detective.” When Armin opened his mouth, Pere spoke over the top of him in a louder voice, “Besides, I wasn’t aware that investigating potential fraud fell into the Survey Corps’ jurisdiction.”

“I didn’t mean any disrespect, squad leader,” Armin tried again, showing recognition of Pere’s title as a means of placating him but it had little effect on the veteran soldier. 

“My _mission_ was to count livestock and grain,” spat Pere, who until that point had maintained some semblance of professionalism but now struggled to contain his disgust, “And to see if the path to the village was clear. It was.” He took in a deep breath to steady himself. “By that stage, we were running low on supplies so there was no option but to turn back.”

It didn’t take a genius to know that both of his subordinates were furious but Erwin had to pick the lesser of two evils: to piss off Pere would meaning losing one of his most experienced and well-respected squad leaders, and Erwin could not risk fracturing team cohesion right before an expedition. On the other hand, Armin was necessary for maintaining the logistics of the expedition — not to mention the arduous task of having to win back his assistant, who he’d come to rely on heavily over the past few weeks.

“That was a good call,” Erwin replied, finally. He nodded at Pere, who was unable to prevent a momentary gleam of satisfaction from flashing in his eyes. 

Then he turned to Armin, whose mouth had twisted in infuriated disagreement. “I have every confidence that you will be able to incorporate this new information into the existing expedition statement. Please take the map with you and have the amended report available by the end of the day.” The dismissal was clear.

“Yes, sir,” Armin answered tersely, sweeping the map into the crook of his arm and rising to his feet jerkily. He looked like he wanted to say more but instead clenched his jaw together and marched out of the office. 

As soon as the door closed, Pere grunted.

“The livestock?” Erwin swiftly prompted, shooting the squad leader a somewhat half-hearted warning look. 

“We counted forty-seven heads of cattle but they all look the same so it was hard to tell,” Pere replied irritably. “Originally we caught two but then on the way back, one of them kicked up a fuss, panicking and got all tangled upon the ropes, making a hell of a racket and attracted titans into the area. We ditched it in the fray along with the wheat.”

“How many titans?”

“We engaged with three of them, but saw maybe six more in the distance. Normals, by the looks of things. We should be able to manoeuvre past them without much trouble. Cows are … surprisingly agile and fast. The one we kept legged it so fast it was practically dragging Jean’s horse in a bid to get away.” At the memory, Pere grinned once more and finally allowed himself to relax. “Might trade it for ol’ Opal.”

Erwin snorted. “Don’t get too attached to that cow. I suspect it won’t be allowed on the journey back from the capital.”

“Shame. We could’ve made a fortune off cattle racing.” 

“You may, however, work with Springer to put together a proposal for the acquisition of dairy cows in the name of promoting self-sufficiency within the Corps and developing skills in animal husbandry to benefit future resettlement projects.”

Pere outright laughed at that, slapping his thigh. “With all due respect commander, I think you’re going soft.”


	3. Chapter 3

Erwin rapped on the open door of the antechamber in which Armin had created a nest for himself of historical surveys and topographical charts. Armin’s head shot up and he looked immediately to the door, a startled and embarrassed flash in his eyes before he schooled his expression and curtly greeted, “Commander.”

“I’ve been summoned to the Capital to provide a report on the reconnaissance mission,” said Erwin, carefully gauging Armin’s mood. He hadn’t seen the soldier since the meeting with Pere the previous day and was painfully aware of the need to get him back onside. Quickly. 

Beyond the earlier flash of emotion, there was little else to read in Armin’s professional mask. “I left the revised expedition statement on your desk earlier,” he said, somewhat pointedly.

Erwin had been in his office the majority of the morning, leaving only once to consult with the supply team regarding the grain samples. It seemed too coincidental that Armin had managed to deliver the report exactly when the office was empty. Nonetheless, he made no mention of this, only noted that Armin was clearly more upset than previously anticipated.

“Yes, thank you, it was thorough as always.” Erwin stepped into the room, stopping by the parchment-laden desk, reaching out to give Armin a clap on the shoulder. “I’m grateful to have you here.”

Armin stared at Erwin’s hand wordlessly, his expression suddenly rigid. He was tense under that hand and very still, breathing shallowly. Erwin awkwardly withdrew his hand, letting it flop by his side uselessly. When it clear that Armin did not have a response, Erwin cleared his throat.

“You’ll come with me, of course.”

“Is that an order, sir?” Armin said in a low voice. He still had not moved an inch since Erwin entered. 

“I would like for you to come with me,” Erwin amended, forcing his voice to soften. 

Armin said nothing for a few seconds, looking down at the papers and casting them aside in neat piles. “Yes, sir. I’ll make preparations right away.”

Erwin thought that he should say more but nothing came to his mind. While he was adequate in charming the necessary lords and ladies to secure support, winning back the respect of a nineteen year old was something he had not previously faced, nor was it something that he took pleasure in doing. In the end, he simply nodded and turned to leave. 

“This is a bribe, isn’t it?” Armin called out, suddenly. He had a look of resigned amusement on his face.

“Yes. I hope you have a sweet tooth.”

The carriage was outfitted with a fold-down desk but it served little purpose other than to more randomly distribute the papers that were already flying with each swaying movement as it jostled over the roughly paved road. Thousands of commuters had not smoothed the path at all, instead pockmarking it with their battered equipment, rendering it particularly vicious to those with weak stomachs or those who'd been counting on spending the bulk of the trip fast asleep. 

Up front, the twin horses strained against each precarious lurch of the carriage as they delicately picked through the cracked and battered road. Gritting his teeth, Erwin stared resolutely out the window to stave off the discomfort from the ride. Given his own way, he'd be on horseback and controlling the pace. As it were, one of the unfortunate privileges of the honour bestowed upon on following the war on the titans was that he was obligated to have others ferry him to and fro.

Opposite him sat Armin, who quietly looked out the window at the passing landscape, a pensive expression on his face. 

Taking only a quick lunch, wolfed down by the side of the road, they made to the walls of the capital, Sina, in good time. Once they passed beneath the heavily fortified gates, the press of crowds swarmed in on either side with wares to hawk and services to offer. The carriages squeezed down the roads hurriedly, with the soldiers beady-eyed toward anyone who dared to venture too close, and everybody breathed a sigh of relief when they were once more on wide, open roads, flanked on either side by palatial residences of the nobles. 

"Bergendorf House," announced the coachmen as the carriage came to a halt outside a particularly handsome manor. There was a water feature that cascaded clear, sparkling water down the length of the driveway. Hedges were combed to perfection, not a single leaf out of place. Having the support of one so wealthy was imperative to their operation. Erwin took in a deep breath, preparing his game face. 

“Commander,” Armin called, approaching with a hesitant step. “May I make a suggestion?” He glanced to Erwin’s empty sleeve. “Perhaps you’d allow me to pin your sleeve … unless there’s a particular reason why you choose not to.”

Erwin looked down at where his arm once was. It had never bothered him that the sleeve was loose. In fact, he felt it served as a good reminder of his own sheer luck at just how little he’d lost compared to others, and how fortunate that made him. As far as wounds went, his own was rather minor.

Accepting the lack of response, Armin held out Erwin’s jacket to shrug into and then handed him the brief case containing their reports. He did this with a quiet efficiency, the motions fluid and natural. Erwin found himself reaching for the files without even thinking about it. No, instead the thing that preoccupied his mind was the realisation that Armin had become such a constant presence by his side that he’d never even noticed how much he’d come to rely on the soldier for those minute, everyday tasks. And even though Armin was still clearly harbouring some ill feelings regarding the events of yesterday, there was no change in the professionalism with which he conducted such menial tasks, no variation in diligence. 

The door to the carriage opened. The coachman peered up at him with polite indifference. Erwin turned back to Armin. 

“Do you have a pin with you?”

With a small smile, Armin dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out a shiny pin, about two inches long, plain but sturdy-looking. It was as though he'd been waiting for the opportunity to use it for a while. When Erwin nodded, Armin straightened out the sleeve of Erwin’s jacket, matching up the cuffs to that of the collar shirt beneath. 

It was a strange sensation; even when he had lain in respite immediately after losing the arm, Erwin refused assistance with dressing, if only to save himself the humiliation and to appease the drive to prove his capacity for self-care was not limited. He’d imagined it would be awkward to accept Armin’s careful actions but it was quite the opposite: it felt as though this was something they’d done before. 

Armin kept his focus on tightly folding the sleeves, pressing down on the creases to avoid creating a heavy bulk. His deft fingers worked with confidence. They traced up along the coarse fabric and then pressed the excess bundle against the blunt stump below Erwin’s shoulder. 

Erwin flinched. Armin recoiled with a sharp intake of breath, an apology forming on his lips. 

“No, it’s fine. Unaccustomed, that’s all. You’re doing a fine job.”

Even through the tough fabric of the military jacket, Armin’s steady hand was warm where it pressed up against the end of the stump. Erwin wasn’t sure if he entirely liked the sensation of something wrapping over the long-healed wound. The nerve endings had since been re-distributed so there was no pain but he felt every minute shift of fabric, every light touch of Armin’s fingers as strongly as though it were a puckering, raw wound. 

To take his mind off the sensation, Erwin looked away out the carriage door, where the other soldiers had gathered in the courtyard outside Lord Callach’s residence. One of them was petting the tethered cow with something close to affection, which made Erwin’s stomach churn uneasily. 

“There,” Armin said softly, stepping back. 

Erwin saw that the silver pin had been threaded through the sleeve, just a brief glimpse where the sunlight struck. It was bizarre, however, without his dangling sleeve. Even though he’d come to terms with the loss long ago and his mind no longer reeled at the image of the asymmetrical man that stared back at him from the mirror each morning, to have the fact so clearly emphasised in public was new to him. He wondered if he’d refrained from pinning back his sleeve precisely because, in some pathetic hope or self-denial, he had not been ready to face the permanent truth of it, not ready to face the open stares of others. Was it vanity or weakness?

“Thank you, Armin,” Erwin said quietly, giving his subordinate a small but genuine smile. He wanted to tell Armin that this small gesture had given him more than the seemingly endless sessions with the gentle-eyed military doctor but thought better of it. “You’re very thoughtful.”

Armin covered his blush by hurriedly picking up his documents, letting his fringe obscure most of his face, but Erwin saw it nonetheless. 

“Shall we go, sir?” he asked briskly, suddenly unable to meet Erwin’s gaze. “After you.”

Erwin looked at Armin a little while longer, an odd sensation of being thrown off-balance pervading, until he gave himself a mental shake and exited the carriage. 

He ordered the soldiers of the other carriage to continue on to the Survey Corps Sina branch along with the cow. Kunz, leader of the command team, remained behind with the coachman to oversee Erwin’s belongings. Then Erwin approached the grand manor with Armin a few paces behind. 

They were welcomed by the domestic staff and ushered into the waiting room, a sumptuously decorated, oval-shaped room with parquet floors that gleamed with fresh wax. The ceiling appeared to rise, featherlight, painted to resemble the open sky. There were seats of velvet brocade pressed up near the walls that looked more ornamental than functional — indeed, every item in the room was likely valued higher than the entire Survey Corps armoury. 

Afraid that the buckles on his harness would accidentally snag on the delicate fabric, Erwin choose to remain standing. Taking this cue, Armin too stayed on his feet, although he drifted towards the walls where several paintings lined up in a row opposite a vast, decadently coloured tapestry. 

Lord Callach kept them waiting but that was unsurprising. 

Armin remained standing before a particular landscape and was inspecting it with a curious expression. When he did not move for another five minutes, Erwin joined him. As far as paintings went, it was unremarkable except for a fantastical backdrop featuring a soaring cliffside with a torrent of white, frothy water spurting from the edge. He'd seen many of such landscapes before; a decade ago, stylised depictions of nature were popular amongst the wealthy as a form of escapism. 

"Wouldn't it be incredible to visit a place like this?" Armin murmured, reaching out until his fingers hovered a few inches above the raised paint strokes, as though he could leap straight into the painting. 

Erwin's expression fell neutral. “If it was possible to visit dreams, maybe. There’s nothing like this within the walls.”

"Maybe the artist left the walls to paint." Armin shifted away from it, looking up at Erwin. He spoke slowly, deliberately. “It’s possible that the artist’s desire to see what lies beyond the walls was greater than his regard for safety.”

“Which would not be an issue if he had no other responsibilities,” Erwin countered, struggling to keep his voice casual but the commander in him was difficult to cast aside. “If there were others counting on the artist, then it would have been an irresponsible act indeed.”

At this, Armin looked away. “I’m sure the artist would be very contrite.”

“Good.”

“But — maybe he just wanted to prove something.” At Erwin’s questioning look, Armin murmured, “Maybe the artist had something they wanted to say but they couldn’t, not directly, for fear of heresy, and so they created this painting as a way of communicating to others who recognised it for what it was. Like a secret hidden in plain sight.”

Armin laughed a little when Erwin didn’t say anything. “Sorry, I’m not making a lot of sense. It’s been a long journey. And I’ve never seen such a beautiful depiction of the Sea before.”

"The Sea is a myth."

“And a myth is something to believe in. That’s what we’re all searching for, isn’t it?”

There was such earnestness in Armin's expression that it sent a shiver down Erwin's spine.

“Commander Smith!” came the boisterous voice of a portly gentleman bounding into the meeting room. 

Erwin cleared his throat and turned to the man, smiling graciously. “Lord Callach.”

Armin snapped to attention beside him and apart from a polite, “Pleased to meet you, Sir,” was silent for the entire meeting.

* * *

"Commander, are you sure?"

"We have at least an hour until the next appointment and I have a promise to fulfil."

After casting several furtive glances in Erwin's direction, Armin settled on a sweetened roll studded with nuts. Erwin selected a fruit pastry, ordered coffee for the both of them, and led the way to a sunny table at the front of the cafe that looked upon the pedestrian traffic. It was no coincidence that the location of the cafe also afforded them a good view of the Treasury entrance, providing him with a better idea regarding the keeper of the city's pursestrings. 

Armin sat, stiff-backed and tense. "It's silly, I know. We lived in the palace for months with Historia yet this feels somehow more grown up."

"You're not a child anymore," replied Erwin. 

"No, I'm not," Armin said, looking up at him with a strained smile. 

"Then I shouldn't need to stress the importance of developing interpersonal relations. Especially when you're well-placed to move up the ranks."

Armin's smile faltered. "I'm not interested in that."

"I know. And that's why someone needs to remind you about these things. Several of your graduating class have moved into leadership roles. You have already proven yourself to possess those skills." When Armin remained silent, absently playing with the table ornament, Erwin cleared his throat and tried again in a more casual tone. "Don't think I haven't noticed the way you interact with others, the way you talk to them. You're good with people and they look up to you. I'd hate for that talent to go to waste. I shouldn't say this but you're one of the good ones, Armin."

Erwin placed his hand on Armin's arm briefly, giving him a reassuring smile that Armin eventually returned, his cheeks bright pink.

The waitress arrived at that moment with their order. Erwin took his hand away, feeling a little satisfaction mingling with a vague sense of loss. He curled his hand around the cup of coffee instead, letting its warmth radiate through the fine porcelain to the tips of his fingers. 

"If this expedition goes well, we can discuss the possibility of sending out a smaller expedition force to investigate further, one that you can be more involved in. I recognise that this is important to you."

Armin nodded. He picked up the sweet roll and inspected it fondly, holding it as though it were something fragile. "You believe me?"

"I do. There is certainly more to the situation than we currently know and if anyone is going to cover the truth, I have no doubt that it would be you. Therefore this expedition must be a success in order to secure future funding for your project. We'll need time and resources, neither of which we have right now."

Erwin took a sip of his coffee while surveying Armin's reaction from behind the cup, letting the bitterness loll on his tongue.

"Thank you, sir. I-I have several theories regarding the abundance of resources available at the village, mostly the result of digging further back in the city archives to when the village was first founded and making deductions from the requisition of funds and equipment. If we match them to the existent buildings on site, I'm willing to wager that we'll find evidence of excess."

"Armin, breathe. And don't just mangle your roll."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." Armin took a hurried bite from his roll, teeth crunching on the nut pieces. "So where did this excess go? Surely it must have all been used, or else the crown would have recalled these things, especially considering that there were several concurrent settlements in the area. I suspect that the early founders of the village quickly discovered what made this region so favourable and set about making sure that no-one else knew of it. Hence the reports of how difficult life was. Hence the continued habitation of such a supposed treacherous environment..."

Armin's voice trailed off, his gaze dipping to Erwin's lip. He made a sudden motion with his hand, reaching out -- then at the last second, snapped his arm back. His hand curled into a fist as he hastily looked away, settling his gaze instead over Erwin's shoulder. 

Confused, Erwin swiped at his bottom lip with his thumb and found a pastry flake there. He stared at it for a moment, this golden remnant that seemed to have caused Armin to falter, then sucked it into his mouth absently. 

Armin took in a deep breath. When he let it out again, he darted a glance at Erwin, grinning almost shyly.

"Sorry," he mumbled, then broke into an embarrassed laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Thank you, by the way, for this."

"It's quite all right," smiled Erwin, the relief flooding thick and fast through him. As much as he hated to admit it, the tension between them had weighed heavily on his mind. He didn't think he'd have been able to endure another day of Armin's petulant brooding. 

\----

* * *

It was close to midnight when the carriage dropped them off at the Sina headquarters. Erwin tipped the coachman more generously than he was prone to and turned to help Armin down. The other soldier was the picture of debauchery, his hair in disarray and cheeks flushed rosy against his normally pale skin. His eyes were bright with giddiness, fuelled by ever-flowing wine from the dinner party. 

"Pity you didn't get your swan."

"The partridge was sufficient.”

They shared a half-grin. 

The dinner party held by Lord Haflinger had been raucous and wild, with food piled high in gaudy excess. Erwin had refrained from drinking too much in order to keep his wits about him (and it was useful to pick up any tidbits of scandalous information for later leverage) and Armin bravely attempted the same, but it seemed young, giggling ladies with pretty smiles and soft curves were too much of a match for him. He had looked quite sheepish, in fact, when Erwin came to collect him from the the drawing room, urgently asking for a loan. An overturned cards table lay in the corner, the rug beneath it stained deep red with wine.

It was good to see Armin relax and let his hair down. The bloody horror of their work often left little time for the carefree follies of youth. Yet when the time came to leave, Armin had jumped to his feet immediately with a bright smile.

By then, Kunz had already left the party to attend to the Corps horses. Leopold and Tank, on the other hand, had waved Erwin off from the grand hall, red-faced and in good spirits. Erwin hoped they would be all right for the return journey to Chlorva the following day.

Two of the Garrison soldiers were stationed at the entrance to the Survey Corps barracks for the evening. They rose when Erwin and Armin approached, saluting a little clumsily and nervously. Rookies. 

Erwin greeted them politely and took the offered lanterns. He made for his office, the fall of footsteps beside him companionable and familiar. He felt warm from what little wine he had and full from the rich food offered. Neither of them spoke as they moved down the empty hallways.

He stopped at his office and entered. There were documents still waiting for him on the desk in neat piles. With a sigh, he sat down heavily on the chair and picked them up listlessly. 

Opposite the desk from him, Armin was setting his lantern on a hook above the desk. The light pierced through the glass bottom, magnifying in strength onto the desk like a beacon. The other lantern placed on the desk filled the room with a warm glow. Then he too sat down, casting a grim look at the documents. 

Erwin set down the papers again, slumping in his chair After a pause, he shrugged out of his dress uniform jacket and slung it over the back of the chair. He drummed his fingers along the armrest, tapping out an even rhythm. 

Armin also discarded his jacket and rolled up his sleeves as though he were about to get stuck in.

Both of them stared at the papers. 

Then, their gazes met. 

Armin sniggered, his shoulders shaking, then began to chuckle openly. Before long, Erwin was laughing with him and feeling quite lightheaded.

When he finally took hold of himself, Erwin reached for a crate under the desk and pulled out a bottle of wine. The crate crammed with various delicacies had been delivered earlier that day although Erwin hadn't thought of sampling it until now. 

“What is this?” Armin asked, peering at the label curiously.

Erwin snorted inelegantly as he rose to his feet and approached the cabinet against the wall in search for some glasses. He jerked his head toward the couch as he did so. “Who cares? It was a gift. Well, a poor substitute for actual funding. I haven’t the luxury of cultivating expensive taste. Imagine being able to tell the difference between cheap and expensive wine — you’d almost certainly always be disappointed.”

Taking the invitation, Armin moved to drape himself against the worn couch, an arm slung carelessly against its back. He raised an eyebrow when Erwin handed him the wine inside of a mug. Erwin grunted as an indication of how much he cared and threw himself onto the other end of the couch.

"Not bad," said Armin lightly, after much sloshing of the wine in between his teeth. 

Erwin took a deep slug instead, knocking it back with the finesse of one imbibing a watered ale. "I seem to have spoiled you."

Over the top of the mug, Armin gave him a coy look. "I could get used to it." A rather mischievous smirk quirked the edges of his lips. 

It took a lot to make Erwin blush but he definitely felt a prickling heat creep up the back of his neck. He hoped it did not show too much and hurriedly took another drink of wine, feeling like a lightweight because it seemed to already be affecting his ability to think clearly. There was a passing thought that perhaps he ought to stop now and call it a night, for Armin's sake. He'd hate for the young, promising soldier to make a fool of himself.

Armin however had no such qualms. "Might have to reconsider what you said about aiming for leadership positions if it means getting to attend parties and glut myself to excessi in the name of political networking."

"Well, I'm glad the Survey Corps seeks to benefit from your enjoyment. Lady Jesslyn and her friends certainly looked entertained by the breadth of conversational skills on display."

"I'm not sure they would be so entertained upon discovering the fate of that most precious porcelain vase."

"I did see it lying on the ground, shards spread out so artistically it seemed likely to have been deliberate." 

"Interactive art.” Armin grinned, clearly pleased with himself for picking up the phrase. “Meant to be touched. Felt. Explored.”

There was an odd sensation that slithered through Erwin’s body. It took a second for him to realise that Armin was seated in his mirror opposite: lounging back, legs crossed at the knee, dangling toe pointing into the centre. Except the toe of Armin's boot was slowly but firmly brushing up against Erwin's calf. It sort of tickled but was not entirely unpleasant. Or unwelcome. That last thought was particularly difficult to reconcile with.

"Will have to brush up on the card skills though," Armin continued with a breathy bark of laughter, taking the opportunity to sidle down the couch even further so that his entire foot rested flat against the top of Erwin's boot. It was warm. 

"It's good to lose every now and then," Erwin managed to say, sounding only slightly strained. "Lulls others into a false sense of security."

"Is everything you do calculated?"

Erwin simply grunted in response. 

Armin finished the rest of his wine easily, as though he'd been drinking for years, in such an effortlessly casual manner that it put Erwin to shame. He licked his bottom lip to catch the last drop, holding Erwin's gaze the entire time through half-lidded eyes. Then he stuck out his mug for more, although purposely holding it _just_ out of reach. 

Amused, Erwin leaned across the length of the couch to top up Armin's drink. His grip on the bottle faltered, slopping wine down Armin's hand. "Sorry," he muttered, although not feeling terribly sorry at all when Armin just laughed again, bringing his hand up to his mouth and licking off each rivet of wine in a decidedly suggestive way. Each flash of that darting, pink tongue was spellbinding.

Erwin cleared his throat in an attempt to focus. "The Haflingers' purpose in funding our expedition has become apparent," he said, louder than necessary. "The military is slowly turning into a show ring. It's now fashionable to be a patron. Well turned out soldiers will soon be more valuable than skilled ones."

"What are they going to do, start adding more gold gilded buttons to our jackets and buckles to the harnesses? As though they weren't complicated enough." Armin chuckled indifferently, high-pitched and careless. The facade of the diligent soldier had been well dismantled. "Extra tassels that dangle uselessly, justified through claims that the overwhelming glint of colour distracts and confuses the enemy, rendering them insensible."

"Not nearly that far," Erwin admonished. Then, thinking of the collection of lords that were now funnelling their energies into the military, he conceded. "Just an addition of a hat that every year gets taller and taller, maybe." 

"Gives us a reason to have Headquarters remodelled with higher door frames. New plastering to match. New furniture." Armin's eyes glittered with amusement. "Easier just to have a new building, really."

Erwin laughed. "Impressive. There's a bureaucrat in you yet."

In response, Armin lifted one corner of his mouth in a little smirk. He ran his tongue against his lower lip, with the air of idle consideration. It was becoming more than distracting. "In short, we'll be little more than errand boys, fetching supper for our masters. Dressed in finery but feeding off scraps."

That sobered Erwin up, like a shot of horseradish to the sinuses. It was something that had been troubling him ever since the end of the Titan War but having it spelt out so clearly made his blood run cold, in spite of the warmth from the wine. “Now that the titans are no longer an active threat, the Survey Corps is going to find it harder to justify its existence. The problem with playing fetch is that resources are finite. When we’ve plundered everything there is to plunder, what will be left for us to do? But I don't want that to happen to the Corps; we're not bandits." 

The wine had loosened Erwin's tongue too much and it was running away from him. He set aside the last of his drink, unfinished, and spoke quietly but with a vein of hard conviction. 

"We have a proud tradition of strength and courage in the face of adversity, fighting for the wings of freedom. Protectors of humanity's liberty. We can't serve the people if we're also serving a few masters who dictate our every action. We must be the ones to control our own destiny."

When Armin spoke, his voice was faint; his thoughts appeared to be far away. "Right now, hoping to choose our own destinies feels foolish, like a pipe dream."

“Everybody has foolish dreams. However, only fools believe them to be anything more than dreams.”

Armin was silent for a long time. Suddenly, he gulped down his wine, draining it in a single breath. There was none of the sensual finesse from before, the provocative looks over the rim of the mug. Just cold steel forged in his gaze.

“Sometimes I wonder what happened to my parents. I know that most likely they were eaten by titans but there’s a part of me that just wishes, _hopes_ , they found a safe haven and that they’re happy.” 

He looked down at his hands, suddenly breathing hard. “I sometimes imagine that they’re waiting for me to find them.”

When Erwin didn’t reply, Armin gave him a sad, tight-lipped smile. "I'm feeling a bit tired. Goodnight, sir. Thank you for the wine."

\----

* * *

The room felt cold, emptier, and not just because Armin had taken one of the lanterns with him upon leaving. Despite the late hour, the streets outside were still noisy. There was a tavern around the corner, frequented by all branches of the military and those seeking to secure themselves a military pension through marriage, and tonight must have pitched cut-price ale judging by the carrying-on. The noise had not been particularly noticeable until that moment. 

Erwin rose from the seat with a slight heave. His mind felt thick like molasses.

Then he shrugged on his dress jacket and in doing so, saw that Armin's jacket had been left behind, folded neatly in two, draped across the back of the chair.

It was a little worn around the edges but still stiff and coarse, unlike Erwin’s own which had softened over the years of everyday use. That was always the tell, he thought, the state of a soldier's uniform and equipment said more about the individual than any written report. The scent of Armin’s soap lingered on the collar. 

Erwin took it with him as he exited the office, tucked under his right arm. The flame from the lantern was petering out as he made his way to the living quarters, spluttering and flickering in menace.

There was no doubt about his ultimate destination although he was still unsure of what he intended to do there. His feet carried him without concern, leaving his mind to scramble up a better excuse beyond _Well, here's your jacket_. That was the bare minimum he could say, the most innocent -- although perhaps innocent could no longer describe how he was feeling.

It had to be the drink. Opening that bottle in the office, after a well-watered dinner party, had been a terrible idea.

An unhelpful part of his mind sneered that even the greenest recruit could guzzle more than Erwin had and still function quite well. It was nowhere near enough to completely take hold of someone of Erwin's physique. 

He stopped to take a breath, finding each inhale audible in the otherwise quiet hallway. His heart was pounding. It was as though he could feel each pulse within his body, each rush of concocted blood. 

He was the commander. Such an image of overindulgence was not to be cultivated at any time.

With a muttered curse, Erwin pushed himself forward, his footsteps turning lethargic. The lantern swung from his hand; the flame within spluttered then extinguished. Another curse ground out between clenched teeth. Abandoning the useless lantern, he splayed his hand against the wall, relying on each ridged stone for direction. Armed only with his memories of the floor plan and the seemingly endless stone-after-stone hallway, Erwin crept forward until he heard voices. 

Around the bend he went until there was light fanning out from the next corner. Straightening, he picked up his pace toward the light. Perhaps the wine had bolstered him after all. He peered around the corner and saw the back of Armin’s bright blond head. 

Then he saw that blond head very close to another head in intimate consultation. Flash of a naked torso. A soft, breathy chuckle. Murmuring of agreement. Clearly too busy to be open to interruption.

Erwin abruptly halted. He pinned himself against the dark corner, back flush against the cold wall, the thudding in his chest suddenly so furious and painfully loud in his ears. Armin’s jacket became a lead weight in his hot grasp. 

He could hear only snippets of their conversation. 

Armin — “All right, let me get ready.” 

The other — “Meet you here?” 

Armin, again, quieter — “No, I’ll come to you.” 

And that was already more than Erwin wanted to hear but still he looked. The other person reached out and placed a hand on Armin’s shoulder and they leaned in even closer. 

Erwin whipped his head around from the scene. Even though he remained ignorant to even his own intentions, it was apparent enough that whatever he’d witnessed was definitely not what he wanted. Imbecile, he fumed, to have allowed this moment of impulsivity. He thought of Armin’s earlier words (“That’s what we’re all searching for, isn’t it?”) and a surge of anger raced through him, all the way back to his own room, compounded by the indignity of groping blindly in the dark.

His movement were steady, controlled, although his mind continued to whirr. Erwin splashed cold water on his face with quick, efficient motions, not allowing himself to gasp at the icy chill that shuddered through his body. Determined not to dwell on the matter any further, he stripped and prepared himself for bed. 

By the time he blew out the candle, he was so fixated with determination to think of anything other than Armin, he’d forgotten to even wonder about the other soldier. Not that it would have mattered anyway.

* * *

When he woke at his usual hour the following morning and blissfully without the inconvenient haze of alcohol whispering irrational things to him, Erwin had come to a resolution. 

In the cold light of day, it became apparent that things were hardly as they seemed to him the previous night. He could have been mistaken about the encounter. Besides, even if it had been something intimate between the two soldiers, it was hardly Erwin’s business to know (that was not entirely true; he required his squad leaders to report developments in relationships precisely so they could factor in biases and weaknesses in planning troop formation. Erwin wasn’t so naive to think that matters of the heart had little effect on a battlefield).

He pinned the sleeve on his jacket, flinching when his finger slipped and drew blood. The blood pooled on the tip of his finger, its taste metallic and sharp like a tonic. He grunted, annoyed, and finished dressing before he could dwell any further on the fact that his missing arm might have started this idiocy in the first place.

The last thing he did was take Armin’s jacket, fold it precisely into two, and head to Armin’s door for the second time in the space of seven hours.

The corridor was quiet but that wasn’t so unusual. Erwin was an early riser. He knew that Armin was too, judging by the number of times he’d seen the young soldier already in the library or office, deep in research. It would not look so out of place for him to knock on Armin’s door at this hour. The sun was already up, after all. There was little reason for him to be nervous about the entire affair. He rapped again smartly, determined to ignore all the other thoughts that he’d assumed long banished. 

The door opened. 

“Commander?”

Erwin’s expression was rigid.

Then: “Jean,” he said in a strained voice, his eyes not missing the way Jean’s hair was ruffled in disarray, the bleary-then-startled expression, the state of undress in only underpants. 

“Never mind."

He turned sharply on his heel, footsteps echoing down the empty corridors. 

His office was worryingly pungent with the scent of wine; he unlatched the windows to wash away the evidence and discarded of the empty bottle and the mugs, fingers rubbing absently against the rims for a moment. Then he collected his travel bag and left the headquarters, not looking back until he was deep into the bitingly crisp air of the morning, blinking under the bright light of a cold sun. 

In the stables, the horses were well-rested and ready for the return journey. They met him with indifference, swaying their great bulky bodies at his approach. Erwin moved on past the stables to where the carriages were located. Kunz snapped a salute in greeting and then relieved Erwin of his bag. 

"Good morning, sir. What time will we be heading off?"

"Mid morning, I hope. Are the carriages serviceable?" 

"Yes, sir. Saw to them myself.” 

"Good. I'll be travelling with Adelen. Please inform her if you see her before I do. And this jacket was left on the floor."

Kunz nodded and took the jacket from him. It felt like relief handing it over.

* * *

The final days before the expedition, the atmosphere thrummed with anticipation as soldiers checked equipment, packs, horses, and wrote letters home. Amongst the officers, changes in formation and soldier performances took up the majority of the time. The newest recruits were relentlessly drilled both in the classroom and on the course. Having something to strive towards brought out the best of everyone. 

Erwin had abandoned the oppressive stuffiness of the office in favour of the training grounds. Some soldiers were zipping in and out of the obstacles, practicing holding formation while circling an enemy. They saluted him smartly. Erwin made polite small talk and gave words of encouragement, and the soldiers responded by nodding seriously when necessary and chuckling at his quips. It had been a while since Erwin did the rounds but the hulking military machine stopped for no-one and a few hours spent mingling with the troops was worth a lifetime of loyalty and trust.

Word soon spread that the commander was roaming the grounds and the younger soldiers turned out in their pristine uniforms, beaming at him and yabbering on enthusiastically about what they had been working on. Without making too many promises, Erwin listened to their concerns and said that he would look into it, and focused on committing to memory their names and faces so that the reports from officers would hold more meaning. 

When his presence was starting to prove a hindrance to the training regimes, Erwin excused himself and returned to his office. No sooner had he sat down, there was a tap on the door. 

"Everything coming along, sir?"

Erwin glanced up, more out of courtesy than anything since he already knew who it would be, and returned to preparing the handouts for the final meeting.

"Yes. All troops present and accounted for."

Armin lingered by the door for a few seconds before entering and taking the seat opposite the desk. He leaned against the backrest, open collar of his shirt exposing the beckoning hollow of his throat, jacket nowhere in sight.

When Erwin didn't look up again, Armin shifted restlessly and tried to peer across the desk at the documents. 

"What did you wish to discuss?"

Slightly taken aback, Armin straightened. "I-I left a revised proposal regarding the squad formations."

Erwin didn't pause in his writing. "It's a bit late for that."

"Final orders this afternoon, I heard." There was a pointedness in those words. All the squad leaders would soon be meeting in Erwin's office. The fact that Armin had not also been summoned was clearly bothering him. 

"Yes," Erwin replied coolly.

"Then it's not too late. Sir, it makes more sense to divide the squads. The supply wagons will slow down the entire operation. Besides, a hundred soldiers suddenly descending on feral cattle is sure to spook them."

"Your proposal has been noted," Erwin said. "It will not be necessary for this expedition."

"You're unwilling to even consider that there might be another way of doing things--"

"Enough." Erwin set down his quill slowly, precisely, then lifted his gaze. His voice was deadly calm. "I will not unnecessarily jeopardise the lives of others because you wish to galavant about solving mysteries."

Armin visibly flinched; Erwin's deduction regarding Armin's true intentions had clearly been spot on.

"I will not discuss this further. Dismissed, soldier."

* * *

Horses shifted restlessly as the soldiers gathered in the barbican, waiting for the signal to advance. When the clock struck nine, Erwin gave the call. The gates heaved open and with a thundering of hooves and whooping from the soldiers, the Survey Corps burst forth from the outer gates of Chlorva and into the empty lushness of Wall Maria. 

The road had remained well-paved despite the years of abandonment. When they were clear of the wall, Erwin slowed down the formation to allow the wagons an easier journey. Making a loud racket when leaving the wall was mostly for show, anyway. He wanted to pace the horses steadily in preparation of the return journey, when they were expected to haul several tons of grain. 

Riding either side of him were his Squad Leaders Pere and Hange, with Lauda in the centre handling the wagons and Levi taking up the rear of the column with the newer recruits. Armin was just behind him in the command team, burning a hole through Erwin with the intensity of his gaze.

When the road began to peter out, the dirt paths overgrown with weeds and grass, Erwin bellowed, “Deploy long-range enemy scouting formation!” and the corps split off into their respective sections. Pere’s squad darted up ahead to scout, leaving a trail of dust behind them. Hange and Levi’s squads encircled the wagons, moving as easily as a well-oiled machine. The entire corps travelled in a semi circle formation, eating up the land at a steady pace. 

"We're making good time," announced Kunz, who had moved up to ride astride Erwin. "Two hours elapsed since departure. Another four to go."

"We'll rest up in an hour, near the Alaine settlement. If any titans come up, we'll be able to meet them head-on."

"Sir. Strange that we haven't encountered any so far."

There hadn't even been any flares from the periphery of their formation. So far, it was a direct path towards Bruxen without disturbances. No sooner had Kunz spoken, a red flare shot up into the sky from the north. Erwin threw Kunz a pointed look but the team leader just laughed at him, pulling out his green flare gun.

"Bear left."

Kunz nodded and fired a plume of green smoke in a southerly direction to avoid confrontation with the titan. The body of the corps moved into alignment around them without fuss; a basic manoeuvre, requiring little more than good eyesight and distance judgement to maintain the same distance between units. After half a mile, Erwin re-adjusted the formation so that they were back on track, cutting the most direct line to the target settlement. It was for the most part an easy ride. The messengers from the squads darted in and out of the command centre group, reporting that everything was in control for which he was grateful. It was the first expedition for the latest batch of new recruits and he wanted them to have a good experience and gain some confidence. 

They approached the settlement close to noon, with the sun high above but providing little warmth. It had been abandoned at the fall of Wall Maria with no attempts to repopulate it in recent times. Given its close proximity to a freshwater river, the primary industry had been fishing. Even five years of wilderness had not erased the vaguely fishy smell that hung thick in the air but it was dry and in reasonable condition. 

As it was only a quick pit stop to water the wagon horses, many of the soldiers remained mounted. Erwin checked in with the supply squad to make sure there weren't any issues then peeled off to cram a few bites of muesli down his throat for sustenance. 

"The reconnaissance team had reported that there weren't many titans in the area," said Armin coming up behind him, a large jug of water in his arms. "May I?" He nodded at Erwin's canteen. 

Erwin declined with a brief shake of the head.

"Yes. Looks like we're having the same luck."

"If the same goes for Bruxen..."

"We'll stick to the plan. Deviating from the plan unnecessarily could lead to confusion and disorder. It might take longer but it is the safer option. The idea of fighting on two fronts isn't appealing."

Erwin bit off another chunk of his muesli bar, chewing hard. He snuck a glance at Armin, who was facing the other soldiers with a small frown. Armin's hand had a faint tremble when he set down the heavy jug, water splashing over the rim.

"Steady."

Armin didn't meet his gaze. "It's so quiet. I've read enough books to know what that means."

Erwin cleared his throat. "Superstition."

Looking unconvinced, Armin gave a thin-lipped smile anyway. "Commander, about yesterday..."

"It's forgotten."

A strange expression passed across Armin's face for a moment, a kind of reluctant relief. "I was out of order. But I hope it won't affect our working relationship. I-I enjoy working alongside you. Professionally, I mean."

"Not the right time for this conversation."

"Afterwards, then?"

Never, if Erwin had his way, but he nodded curtly and moved off to join Levi and Hange. As he left, he heard a heavy sigh behind him.

"Your doppelgänger looks cheerful. Broken him already?"

"Don't, Levi." Erwin took the flask of hot tea from Hange and took a grateful drink. It coursed through his body, scalding, and brought about an involuntary shudder. "Everything all right?"

"Tip top," Hange said, grinning. "Admiring the view. Makes a nice change."

"Rookies are a bit of a handful but nothing I can't handle. Too excited for their own good, mouthing off about slaying titans and all."

"No different from last year, then?"

Levi snorted. "We probably need to split them into the other squads earlier than usual. They're keen but undisciplined, and hanging around with each other without a good example is going to cause headaches in the future. Difficult to unpick bad habits."

"I can take seven, if you need. Egill’s always looking for volunteers for his 3DMG project."

Erwin shook his head. "He wouldn't always be looking for volunteers if he didn't go through them so quickly. Rotate them through supply squad. That will..." 

"Bring them down a notch? Sure."

"Good. We'll discuss this further upon return. Gather your squads. We leave in five."

Erwin headed back to his horse and swiftly mounted. Seeing him in action, the nearby soldiers hurriedly packed away their lunch and also readied their horses. This chain reaction passed quickly through to the rest of the corps. With the wagons checked and ready, they set off again. 

There were only a few more changes in course before they reached the village of Bruxen at the foot of the mountains. In fact, the mountain was so majestic and dominating that for a moment, Erwin didn't even notice the cluster of thatched houses. It was only until they were nearly upon the village that the picture became clear. Pere had done a good job in marking out the lay of the land but seeing it was another thing. There were mountains near Utopia used for military training exercises but they seemed like little more than hills in comparison. He was given a sudden, forceful reminder of the painting from Lord Callach's residence with soaring cliffs and dizzyingly high peaks that almost blocked out the sun. The mountain range ran continuously alongside the village, turning from rock up the northern end to forest in the south end. 

He took in a deep breath, refocusing his attention on the task at hand.

The eastern approach was blocked -- by livestock. What looked like fifty heads of cattle were scattered on the sparse grass, coats thick and shaggy and muddy. They roamed all the way up to the base of the mountain. On the actual mountain were about a hundred sheep, little white specks among the rocky slope, but Erwin put them out of his mind for now. Not wanting to spook the cattle too much, Levi's squad took a wide berth around them, intending to hook at the mountain and herd them all into a denser group. Half of Pere's squad also peeled off with them to scout the northern aspect. The rest of the corps swung south with Erwin to the village proper.

The thatched houses had not weathered well. Several were missing entire sections of their roofs and had collapsed walls, the rubble covered in slippery layers of moss and weeds. Various pieces of farming equipment sat out in the middle of the road, rusted over, clearly abandoned in a hurry. There was always an eerie feeling to these empty villages, even though Erwin knew their prior occupants were safely living within Wall Rose. 

They rode through the village on the main road until they reached the silos, which were really just rudimentary storehouses made of stone. Thankfully, they were in good condition. The supply squad pushed their wagons up to the silos and got to work in collecting the grain. 

Directly south of the silos was thick forest that descended from the mountain like a carpet. It was so dense and dark inside that Erwin felt uneasy, not knowing what was contained within. 

"Hange!" he called. "Station your troops around Lauda's squad and along the forest line."

"Got it."

With the remainder of Pere's squad setting out in an even wider perimeter along the southern and eastern edge, this created two rings of defence around the supply team as they worked on foot.

Satisfied, Erwin turned to his own command team, who were awaiting instructions. "Adelen, Leopold, run messages from the northern sector. Tank, Emer, southern sector. The rest of you, join Hange."

His team nodded and dispersed, leaving only Kunz and Armin. As the team leader of the command centre, Kunz's presence was understandable but Armin was another thing altogether. There was no need for a scribe out in the field, after all. 

"Armin, you too."

"I'll see if Levi needs a hand with the new recruits."

Considering Armin's dogged intention to split up the squads into smaller forces, Erwin shook his head. As much as he trusted Levi to stick to the plan, there was a nagging sensation at the back of his mind that Armin had other ideas.

“Help Hange with securing the perimeter.”

Armin gave him a look that spoke volumes regarding his opinion on being giving guard duty. “Commander, I believe my skills are better put towards co-ordinating the livestock—”

“That’s enough,” Erwin snapped. “Go.”

Armin’s jaw tightened but nonetheless nodded stiffly and spurred his horse into a smart canter towards where Hange's squad was spreading out systematically.

Erwin met with Lauda, who was barking out orders regarding the grain.

“The modified wagons are coming in handy,” said Lauda, nodding to where soldiers were able to drain oats freely into the wagons with extended sides to act as a reservoir. It was vastly faster than shovelling the oats into bags. “It won’t take very long. The only issue is that there’s more grain that we have wagons.”

“That’s fine,” said Erwin. “Just make sure we get a good selection. We can always make this trip again.” It would also assist in securing a bigger budget for equipment. 

Stepping away briefly to assist with securing a canvas over the top of a loaded wagon, Lauda remarked, “So far, so good."

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean we can afford to relax.”

Lauda nodded in agreement. Seeing that his operation was under control, Erwin turned his horse around and went to join Levi’s squad at the eastern end of the village, who were trying to direct the livestock into a manageable herd. 

“We have one soldier with experience in herding. One.” Levi narrowed his eyes at Erwin’s approach. “This is going to disintegrate into chaos.”

Erwin grunted. “When have any of our plans not disintegrated into chaos?”

“True. Oi! Watch that one! It’s escaping— shitty kids playing cowboy!” 

They had managed to gather up roughly twenty of the lumbering beasts into a loose herd, girded by some of the younger soldiers who were laughing and chatting amongst themselves. In a moment of distraction (a particularly amusing joke, judging by the roar of laughter), three of the cows had tried to make a break for it and were charging through their lines haphazardly. It took another seven soldiers to steer them back into the herd, by which time a couple of other cows had started drifting back toward the higher pastures. 

As much as Erwin hated to admit it, Armin had a point when it came to rustling up the livestock. Years without human masters had turned them feral, unpredictable, and disdainful of the soldiers' blundering attempts at corralling them. They shied easily upon approach, and when backed too far they became hostile.

Erwin and Levi exchanged a look before determination set in. Digging in his heels, Erwin went in a wide, loping arc around the drifting cows to steer them back in. When one of them lurched in the opposite direction, Levi sprang out from beside Erwin in a burst of speed and neatly skirted around the cow before pulling sharply on the reins into a skidding halt. The cow shied away, disgruntled; Erwin chased it back into the herd. 

That was just one cow and there were several more to go. 

Gritting his teeth, Erwin rode over to where the young soldiers were struggling with a particularly aggressive bull. It was pawing at the ground, sending a swirling cloud of dust all around, and tossing its head. 

"Get back!" Erwin shouted. 

The soldiers bolted away at a jumbled gallop immediately but the bull had already begun to charge, hooves thundering and shaking the ground. There was fierce hardness in its eyes as it ran full pelt toward them. 

Erwin spun his horse around and spurred into a hard gallop, cutting across the bull's path to draw its attention. The bull skidded then heaved its great body around surprisingly nimbly and started after Erwin instead. It bellowed furiously, kicking up the dirt as it gave chase. Erwin slowed down his horse for a fraction of a moment, just enough to keep the bull on him, and then sprang out past the soldiers into the empty forgotten fields. When the bull had enough of being lured, Erwin turned from bait to predator and hounded the bull even further out before peeling away. 

He joined the squad, breathing heavily. The bull thankfully remained on the periphery. 

"Hopeless," Levi muttered, having seen the end of the affair. Whether he meant the soldiers or the situation, Erwin wasn't sure because there was a sudden shout from the southern end of the village. 

A towering figure came charging through, the monstrous silhouette stark against the sky, heavy footsteps shaking the ground. Someone fired a black flare but everyone could already see the abnormal titan bolting from within the forest and making directly for the tightly clustered supply team. 

Erwin had barely turned his horse around when three soldiers whipped through the air, slamming their grappling hooks into the titan's flesh and circling it in tight arcs. One soldier slashed at the titan’s ankle, causing for it to stumble and pitch forward. The sudden change threw the other soldiers off balance, the cables of their manoeuvre gear jerking taut then yanking them in the opposite direction. There was a scream and one of the soldiers fell to the ground. Erwin was too far away to see if they were still alive. 

Another soldier had sprung into action and was whirring around the titan, drawing closer and closer until they reached the nape and cut out a thick piece of flesh. The titan cried out once then dropped, giving the ground another shake upon impact. 

"Where's our defensive perimeter?" Erwin muttered darkly, jabbing his heels into his horse's side. The horse sprung into action, nose down towards the fallen titan. It'd barely made a stride when another two titans ran out from the same direction as the abnormal, mouths stretched wide in anticipation of a feast. 

Behind him, Levi shouted for his horse. 

"No," Erwin cut in. "You have your orders. Take care of your squad."

Levi growled and turned his attention back on his young squad, who had paused to watch the fracas and subsequently, several of the cows had bolted toward the mountains.

Erwin left him to it and galloped towards the two titans. 

Before he reached the fray, a new pair of soldiers had joined in and were efficiently slicing through the titans. One of them moved in tight, economical lines with easy grace, the other was a little flashier but got the job done without fuss. Together, they brought down the titans. 

By the time he reached the fallen titans, they were already steaming and melting away into nothingness.

"Mikasa. Eren. Good work."

The pair looked up at Erwin's approach with a kind of grim exhilaration. It had been months since they'd last needed to use their combat skills and as awful as it was to know the true nature of the titans, the thrill of action was still potent enough to bring a gleam to their eyes. 

"Where's Hange? How did that titan get through our lines?"

A moan punctuated the air. The soldier wounded by the abnormal titan lay a short distance away, struggling to get to his feet, even with the help of his fellow soldiers. It looked like both legs were broken. One of the medics was hurriedly fashioning a splint. 

Erwin turned away. "Go and find the breach."

Eren and Mikasa nodded, darting off in the direction the titans had arrived. 

On the eastern end of the village, Levi's squad had now completely lost control of the herd. Cattle ran in all directions, lowing in confusion and panic. They stampeded through the village, trampling bushes and getting caught in the fences, charging at the soldiers when they came near. He saw at least two soldiers get rampaged, gored by the horns of a vicious bull. 

A shout came from the direction of the forest. Hange lurched forward on her mount, pulling up at a hard stop before Erwin. Slick mud sprayed against Erwin's uniform.

"The breach?"

"It's Armin. I’ve got a team looking for him,” she said, shaking her head and breathing hard, “But he’s gone.”


	4. Chapter 4

Erwin’s pulse shot up before he knew it, bounding so thick and fast it was audible in the drums of his ears.

Under the scrutiny of his subordinates waiting for orders, his back stiffened and his expression turned to stone. The Survey Corps guidelines were clear: mission first, soldier later. Never mind that back when the guidelines were drafted, their missions had an actual sense of purpose. 

A heavy grimness set on Hange’s face. Every casualty stung, regardless of whether it was a veteran or a rookie, but Hange and Armin had worked closely together in the past to formulate strategies against the titans, and the bond developed under the terror of war was difficult to abandon so easily. 

“No trace of blood. It would've been clean,” she said, perhaps in a bid to console herself more than for Erwin's benefit. 

But doubt gnawed at the back of Erwin’s mind. Armin was far too clever to allow himself to be eaten by a titan. Their most cunning, ruthless soldier was not made to be a mere afternoon snack. Erwin was certain of it. 

He scanned the forest line for Eren and Mikasa but they had long disappeared into the denseness, their green cloaks blended into the foliage. They would find Armin and bring him back soon enough. Most likely, Armin was just–

His breath caught in his chest as realisation struck. Something akin to chilling fury crawled up his spine. _Of course._ The topographical charts, the census ledgers, the agricultural textbooks, map after map of the village…except it wasn’t the village that Armin had been interested in at all. Erwin’s mind flashed back to the painting back at Lord Callach’s residence and how utterly still and silently Armin regarded it, as though he’d been on the brink of a new discovery. 

A quick glance towards the mountains rendered him light-headed before reality slammed back into him. Bitterness stung upon his tongue. His hand squeezed into a tight fist around the reins. 

No, Armin wasn’t dead at all; he was too busy indulging himself with trivial mysteries.

Stifling the growl that threatened at the back of his throat, Erwin set aside the choice words selected for the scribe and narrowed his focus on the mission. He couldn't afford to spare more manpower and time thinking about Armin.

Thundering pounded in his ears and the ground quaked beneath their feet. Dust was kicked up in all directions; he could barely see through the ochre haze, only russet shapes looming towards them as the stampede of cattle raced through the streets of the village. 

“Send word to Pere to tighten up our lines,” he barked to one of his messengers, who nodded and took off to the south. “Hange, spare a few to cover Supply while they mount. Don't be afraid to take out the cattle. They're going to end up at the slaughterhouse anyway.”

With a swift squeeze of Erwin's thighs, his horse propelled him towards the supply squad. “Mount up! Get the cattle under control!” he called to Lauda. 

His squad leader had already halted the grain collection when the titans crashed through their lines. Now Lauda gave the order to abandon the wagons completely. 

Erwin raced to Levi's position. “We need to drive them back out into the paddocks. The situation at present is asking for injury.” 

Before Erwin could give further orders, Levi had grunted in acknowledgement and went about directing his squad to press up against the foot of the mountain, creating a row of soldiers that would force the cattle towards the open ground. It was a relief that Levi didn't require micromanaging: Erwin simply told him what he wanted to happen and Levi made it work. 

Lauda's squad had picked up on Levi's plan and were doing the same along the southern end of the village. They created a long arc, channelling the cattle to the east. At first confused and frustrated, the cattle darted in all directions but eventually they began to run to the open ground, then slowed down to a trot before lumbering forward at a walk. Then the ends of the line of soldiers came together in a lasso to encircle the cattle. 

With the cattle under control, Erwin ordered the supply squad to resume their collection. 

In the distance, he saw Mikasa and Eren emerge from the depths of the forest in a heated argument. Eren's angry tone of voice carried easily although the words were indistinct. Nonetheless, Erwin could take an educated guess as to what it meant. 

He rode up to meet them.

“Commander, we searched along the forest line but it was too dense to see far in–” Mikasa started but Eren cut her off abruptly.

“Requesting reinforcements to search deeper in the forest, sir.”

“That's not possible, Eren. We need you on the front lines to intercept further titan attacks.”

“But sir, Armin's clearly lost and he needs us!”

“Your responsibility is to your team. Right now, we have extremely limited intelligence regarding his whereabouts and I can't afford to have you two off the field for any longer. Armin is an experienced soldier; he can take care of himself.”

“But what if he's–” Eren's voice trailed off. He clearly didn't want to entertain the possibility but a desperate, frightened look overcame him. 

“Then abandoning your post is not going to make a difference.”

Mikasa narrowed her eyes. “Sir, he could be injured and require immediate assistance.”

Armin could be a multitude of things. In the background Erwin could still hear the rumble and clatter of cattle being herded into a manageable position. Before he could help it, he glanced behind the pair to the edge of the forest where the earlier titans had emerged and a small shiver ran down his back. 

“You searched the area along the forest line thoroughly?” He was met with indignant nods. “And you found nothing?” Again, nods, this time reluctant. “Then we must assume him killed in action. It is difficult enough to fell one titan single-handedly, let alone three.” Erwin knew what they were all thinking: Armin was not particularly skilled in physical combat; his assisted kill count was low and his direct confirmed kills were still at zero. The odds were not in his favour. 

“We can only hope that he has found shelter. In the meantime, the situation remains precarious and you are required back with your squad. There is an entire Corps to protect.”

As much as it pained him, Eren expelled a harsh breath and nodded. “Sir,” he said and turned his horse away, his face contorted with grief and anger. Mikasa had already started toward the rest of their squad. 

Barely two paces later, another cry arose from the western aspect of the village. Four soldiers were already racing through the air, blades drawn, to intercept a new titan before it could even totter out the forest. From a distance, their blades looked like little more than needles, barely able to draw blood from a finger. The titan snatched at the soldiers with monstrous, chubby hands. There was a shriek, a yell from someone else. A splatter of red. 

Erwin watched the soldiers battle the titan for a moment longer then left to catch up with Lauda regarding the progress of the grain collection. He took a deep breath in, held it for two seconds, and as he released it slowly, he pushed out all thoughts of Armin. 

He had other things to focus on.

* * *

Late afternoon, after only one other titan attack to manage, the wagons were almost sagging under their full loads. The supply squad had finished sealing the silos back up and were preparing to remount. By now, most of Levi's squad had figured out how to handle the cattle and now watched them doggedly. Every time a cow tried to wander away, they were gently nudged back into the herd. Getting rid of the protective bulls had settled the rest. 

“Formation!” called Erwin when the wagons were manoeuvred into place. 

They started to move the cattle forward into a rough column at the head of the formation. The plan was to have them travel ahead while the slower wagons would take their time behind. Erwin sent Pere's squad ahead with the cattle, while Hange's squad was to guard the wagons. 

When they were set to go, Erwin allowed himself one last look behind at the forest. In doing so, he caught Eren's bitter, fuming gaze. Eren and Mikasa had elected to travel at the very rear of the formation, lingering in hope.

With the sun now behind them casting long shadows into the overgrown paths, the chill was also beginning to set in, gnawing away at their bones. Erwin never allowed himself to feel the downward spiral of guilt but nonetheless something akin to it, like a simmering remorse, was brewing inside of him, darkening his thoughts. 

He knew that he'd done the correct thing, but he also knew that being correct was worthless when the action was taken without meaning. Perhaps a small rescue team wouldn't have been too much of an ask…

Slowing down to ride alongside Erwin, Kunz cleared his throat. When Erwin looked at him, Kunz gave a small nod. “Lowest casualty rate in a long time.”

The likelihood of the Survey Corps returning from an expedition with all members alive and intact was near impossible but that wasn't a particularly comforting thought. Erwin grunted in response. In the wagon ahead, the tightly bundled corpses of fallen soldiers rocked with each motion of the wheels. 

“Shame about Armin,” Kunz persisted, oblivious to Erwin's discomfort. “You were training him up, weren't you?”

Erwin remained silent, watching the corpses and feeling a shudder wriggle through his body. He clamped down on the stirring inside his stomach, abdominal muscles tightening. His jaw set as the cold washed over him. With each inhalation, he felt the ice crystallise around him until there was nothing left but calm, logic, _the mission_.

When his breath steadied and became regular, he finally muttered, “This Corps never changes.”

A shout arose behind him. “Eren! Mikasa!”

Erwin's head snapped around.

A frantic thundering of hooves grew louder from the rear of the formation. 

“Armin!” shrieked Eren, whirling his horse around and racing towards the incoming figure with an ecstatic whoop, Mikasa only a pace behind. “I knew it!”

Erwin heard laughter and excited chattering coming from the reunion, but he tuned it out and increased the length of his strides to move up the formation. There was no change in his expression; the only giveaway was a subtle tightening of his grip on the reins, just enough that his horse pricked up its ears in acknowledgement. 

More hammering hoof beats.

“Commander!”

He barely spared a glance to the side as Armin raced up beside him.

“I found it!” Armin gushed, his eyes wide and his entire body buzzing from a high. His face was flushed from exertion and excitement. “I saw it! Everything! Commander, I have so much to tell you--”

“Fall in, soldier,” he said crisply.

“Sir, I found the trail--”

All at once, the revulsion and savage frustration spilled over, seizing Erwin's body until it was rigid with silent fury.

“I will not repeat myself,” Erwin said in a dangerously low voice, gaze returning to stare fixed ahead on the horizon.

* * *

With a smart click of the tongue, the messenger collected the horse beneath her and made for the Capital with the after action report tucked away safely under her cloak. Erwin retreated to his makeshift office at Chlorva, glad to be able to tick off one more thing on his post-expedition checklist. The debrief session with his officers had been met with mixed emotions. 

Erwin's gaze fell on the list of wounded soldiers, then onto the thankfully shorter list of soldiers killed in action. He pulled a fresh piece of paper towards him, took hold of the pen and steadied his hand over it. Best handwriting, now, for respect. A frown came between his eyebrows as he wrote; it was a childish hand, completely inappropriate for recounting the genuinely honourable and brave deeds of the fallen soldiers. Perhaps he ought to call Armin, although he didn't want to make it seem as though he was deliberately rubbing Armin's nose in it. Besides, he was hardly to blame. 

Nonetheless, it was difficult to contain his anger. His hand shook faintly. Erwin had to set down the pen and take in a few breaths. Just as he collected himself, there was a knock on the door. 

“Commander.”

Erwin forced air in through his nostrils at a steady rhythm. “Armin. Close the door.”

Armin did so, pausing for a fraction of a second with his hand on the door knob. Then he steadied himself, visibly drawing in a deep breath and turned to face Erwin. He stood before the desk at attention, feet together, back straight, wide blue eyes staring straight ahead. The skin around Armin's eyes was slightly pink. 

“At ease.”

Without wavering in his stare, Armin repositioned his feet until they were a shoulder width apart, and clasped his hands behind his back. 

“I have received the report from your Team Leader regarding yesterday's events,” Erwin said in a clipped voice. “However, I would like to hear from you.”

“Sir.” Armin closed his eyes in a long blink. When he opened them again, there was steeliness in them, a hard resolve. “After receiving your orders to join Squad Leader Hange's squad, I went to their position to receive further orders. I was directed to station myself along the perimeter of the forest, on the southern aspect, to detect titan activity. Approximately twenty minutes into my post, I noticed activity within the forest and went to investigate it.”

“Activity,” Erwin repeated.

“Yes, sir. I suspected it to be a titan therefore I entered the forest to see what it was.”

Erwin narrowed his eyes, the anger and the disappointment battling within him at Armin's answers.

The report from Kunz had stated the same thing but part of Erwin had hoped to get another account, the _real_ account. He wasn't a fool. Armin hadn't seen any titans. Had Armin done so, the protocol was clear on the matter: a red flare, attempt to engage if success appeared viable, or wait for reinforcements then take out the titan together. 

The desk creaked faintly as Erwin leaned across. “And your post?”

Armin's expression didn't change. It remained mask-like, stiff, formal. “I judged it to be vital to the operation to detect titans. That was my order.”

So, that was the game that Armin wanted to play? 

“Nonetheless, your post was then unmanned.”

“Yes, sir.”

“At this point did you inform anyone of your plan or your intended whereabouts?” It was difficult to hold back the mocking tone that threatened to escape. Difficult when they both knew the entire conversation was a sham.

“No, sir. To do so would have lost the opportunity to pursue what I believed to be a titan.”

“And was it a titan?”

“No, sir.”

Erwin took in a deep breath, teeth gritting together so hard that his jaw was beginning to ache. “Continue.”

“I pursued the supposed titan for some time, then when I was able to confirm that it was not a titan, I realised that I was deep into the forest and did not know my immediate location.”

“You were lost.”

“Yes, sir.”

“For four hours.”

“The forest had not been mapped prior to this expedition.”

“Yet when you returned, you had twelve signal gun flare cartridges in your possession, all unfired.”

Armin didn't say anything. 

Erwin leaned back in his chair, then. It squeaked in protest, the sound was sharp against the silence of the room. Outside his window, the metallic sound and smell of industry churned on, compounding into the beginnings of a headache. Erwin's voice was even, but laced with iciness. 

“Your actions today were reckless and irresponsible, and endangered the lives of other soldiers. Because of your actions, three titans breached the defensive perimeter and approached the Supply Squad, who at that point where in a vulnerable position on foot. The dispatching of those titans resulted in three casualties.” At that, Armin looked startled. His throat bobbed. “Thankfully, the two are expected to fully recover and return to action within the month.” The fate of the other soldier was clear. 

“Had protocols been followed to utilise the flare gun alarm system, it can be reasonably assumed that it would have provided adequate time to prepare for an attack. The break in the perimeter was not communicated to the rest of the squad. Furthermore, resources had to be drafted to search for you, which took two of our most experienced soldiers off the field. This placed them and the squad in a precarious situation. Do you have anything you wish to add?”

Armin finally looked at him then, and Erwin could see the multitude of things that Armin clearly wanted to say but couldn't, and if Erwin were a better man he would have said something to put Armin more at ease, to coax those words out of him. But as it were, he had little appetite for anything that Armin might reveal. Nothing would absolve him of the disrespect shown towards the Corps, towards his comrades. Erwin knew it and Armin knew it too, for he kept his lips pressed tightly together and shook his head. 

“Well?” Erwin said sharply. 

“No, sir,” Armin replied.

“To say that I am disappointed in your actions would be an understatement. As one of the veteran soldiers, you are expected to set a good example to the younger soldiers. Over the past few months we have worked closely and I had come to trust your judgement, believing them to be sound and focused on furthering the cause of the Survey Corps. Instead, your actions today were selfish and motivated by personal gain. Your comrades were not at the forefront of your mind. Nor was fulfilling the mission and carrying out orders. 

“Orders with the Survey Corps have always relied on the judgement of those carrying them out - indeed, we value critical thinking in this branch of the military - however today was beyond simply poor judgement. It was foolish and cowardly.

“You will have a disciplinary hearing within the week. You have the right to seek legal representation for the hearing. The decisions handed down may be appealed. In consideration of the gravity of your actions and the severity of the consequences resulting from your error in judgement, I suggest you plea for leniency. That is all. Dismissed.”

Armin saluted him wordlessly, the edges of his eyes ringed with red, and turned precisely on his heel to leave.

Running out of steam, Erwin dropped the pen and placed his head in his hands. When he heard the crank and whine of the doorknob, the words tumbled out of him before he could stop. “Off the record: how long have you been planning this?”

But Armin didn't reply, just opened the door and walked through it with his shoulders back and his head held high. The click as the door closed resounded throughout the office.

* * *

As usual, the kitchens had set aside a meal for him. 

Erwin found Pere also in the refectory wolfing down a hastily constructed bread roll with one hand while scribbling notes with the other, despite lunch having passed several hours ago. An occasional muttered curse echoed through the otherwise empty cavernous hall. Despite Erwin’s attempts to be as unobtrusive as possible, Pere still glanced up and waved him over. 

“I only came to collect my lunch,” Erwin protested but Pere snorted and shoved his notes aside, clearing a space on the communal table. “You appear busy.”

“Nah, just flicking through reports. Any distraction is fine.” Before Erwin could say anything further, Pere had risen to his feet and packed away his belongings. “If you don’t mind, I’ll walk with you.”

Nodding, Erwin pieced together this own bread roll until it was swollen like a cannonball and just as unappetising. Together they left the hall and walked out into the sunlit court. 

“Everything sorted with the livestock? Saw them getting sent off earlier. Hell of a lot of noise.” Pere matched Erwin’s steps easily as they walked toward the administration buildings. Several soldiers had been given the unenviable task of cleaning up the temporary cattle holding pens and the stench remained thick in the air. 

“It was my understanding that you wanted to keep a few for racing.” 

“I’m prepared to reconsider that proposal,” Pere groaned. He polished off the rest of his roll with two giant bites, as though eating were an inconvenience. “Actually, I was hoping to go through my commendation list with you.”

“What seems to be the issue?”

“The list keeps expanding every time I sit down to write it.”

“Ah. Put up as many as you see fit, Pere. We’ve just had a successful expedition. It’s to be expected.”

Pere gave him a sideways glance. “Actually,” he said again. “I want to give a few of the young ones their own teams. See what they come up with. I know that traditionally we’ve always tried to keep the same numbers but it could be useful with the influx of new recruits.”

Although the Survey Corps was not at full capacity, and was unlikely to reach it anytime soon, their recruitment rate had shot up in recent years and finding suitable teams to everyone was a task Erwin had delegated to his squad leaders. It wasn’t a problem they’d ever faced before. “Are they ready?”

“I believe so. I mean, Jean’s already been leading from the back for the past couple of years; it should be an easy transition for him. Also, it’s well past time Lorelai was moved up it’s just that, well…”

“It’s getting crowded at the top,” Erwin finished for him. “Who would’ve thought we’d see the day when our problem was too many experienced soldiers. I’m assuming you don’t want to lose either of them from your squad.”

From their location, the training grounds were in sight. Although the Corps was still easing off the high from the expedition and recuperating, several teams had already scheduled training sessions to consolidate the skills learned on the mission and address the issues they were fresh in their minds.

“Preferably but if we can’t facilitate new teams then I suppose they’ll have to go.” The team on the training ground had gathered an audience who were cheering them on. A grimace came to Pere’s face. “To be completely honest, a reshuffle might actually do some good. Don’t want them to get complacent.”

“Yes, they need a project to sink their teeth into or their attentions will start to wander.” After observing the training for a moment longer, Erwin continued his way back to the office.

Pere followed, although not before giving a satisfied grunt at the manoeuvres pulled by the soldiers. “Morale is fairly high at the moment though.”

“It’s been a while since we’ve had the entire Corps working together.” But the implication was clear – the exhilaration of the expedition would soon wear off and the troops would start to get restless for action once more.

They paused at the foot of the stairs that led to the main building. Pere’s brows knitted together as he spoke with a gravity usually reserved for pre-mission addresses to the troops. “In any case, it’s never too early to think about structuring the future of the Corps. I’m not going to be around forever and there are far more brilliant minds out there. Others might not necessarily agree with me but I’d rather they were supported now than left to flounder when their time comes.”

“I see. Jean and Lorelai. They might have to share initially. I’m not entirely sure if we have the resources to fund two new teams.” Erwin did a quick calculation in his head but was reluctant to make promises so early. “Leave it to me. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Erwin. There’s no rush though. Both of them are out of commission for the next couple of weeks with injuries.” 

In a sector where praise was a rare commodity, hearing of Pere’s confidence in the young soldiers was comforting. After wrestling with the issue for the next few hours, trying to squeeze out more numbers from a dwindling supply, Erwin abandoned the ledgers and headed toward the infirmary to make his own assessment regarding the mood among the soldiers. 

The smell of antiseptic was strong, heady; it reminded Erwin too much of his days in respite following the amputation of his arm and how intensely he’d wanted to escape it. Even now, his feet itched to take him away. 

He continued down to the far room where the minor injuries were treated. Even from the hall, he could hear roaring of laughter and the chatter of voices more befitting the barracks. Nonetheless, he was glad that the soldiers appeared to be in good spirits. 

A group of soldiers with various limbs bandaged crowded the room as they awaited the medic to check their state of healing.

“Commander!” 

Finishing up with the medic, Jean hobbled over. His leg was bound in plaster, which Jean glared at irritably as it slowed him down. “Sir, I haven't had an opportunity to explain myself.”

“Jean. How's the leg?”

“Fine. Just precautions, you know.” Jean waved aside the matter carelessly. “About the capital.”

“Hm? Oh, it's fine.”

“No, I should have informed someone that I would be there.” Jean drew in a breath with a long-suffering expression; Erwin was certain that if he'd been anyone else, Jean would've rolled his eyes too. “My parents moved into town that weekend and wanted help with the unpacking. I was meant to stay with them but the _nagging_ , you know?” He groaned at the memory. “My mother wants a smokehouse. A smokehouse! In the middle of the city!”

Erwin murmured in indifferent sympathy.

“So I uh, decided to crash at the barracks instead. Sorry for giving you a fright in the morning. That night was--”

“Really, it's fine,” Erwin cut in. “Whatever happens at night isn't my business.” 

“Huh?” Jean blinked at him in confusion. When comprehension dawned, he suddenly burst out laughing, having to clutch his sides in support. His crutches fell in a clatter around him. “No!” he guffawed. “That's not what I mean. That night was really noisy outside my window and I couldn't sleep, so Armin offered to switch rooms with me. It's not ... like _that_ I mean, whatever he likes but no, we just switched rooms.”

“I see.”

Jean straightened after picking up his crutches. He shrugged, the chuckling subsided but the grin remained. “Yeah, Armin's pretty good like that.”

* * *

Disciplinary hearings were usually held in the relatively small closed military court in the Capital but Zackly had made an exception and travelled to the Survey Corps headquarters for the occasion. The great man sat in the centre of the panel, with two judiciary officers from the administrative branch on either side. Erwin stood with Lauda and Kunz on the left as Armin's superior officers. Mikasa and Eren stood to the right for moral support. 

In truth, Erwin rarely attended disciplinary hearings in person unless he was called to provide information. 

Lauda was only there for reasons for formality; he was technically Armin's squad leader although the Command Team had always operated outside the Supply squad's jurisdiction. Consequently, the squad leader shifted restlessly beside Erwin, reluctance implicit in the slight stoop of his back. Erwin tried to ignore him, instead choosing to scrutinise Armin. 

The soldier in question had chosen to represent himself and stood stoically before the panel, uniform neatly pressed, boots shining, not a single hair out of place. 

“Armin Arlert, you are charged with failure to follow instructions resulting in the endangerment of lives. According to the after action report, you were instructed to work under Squad Leader Hange to secure a defensive perimeter while the supply wagons were being loaded...”

Armin received the account of his charges neutrally, speaking only when required, and even then it was only to say, “Yes, sir” or “No, sir.” Everything was hidden away behind his cool eyes. Apart from the steady rise and fall of his chest, he barely moved a muscle, appearing like a statue.

Even when Zackly began to probe the case, Armin remained calm. 

“It says here that you were able to eventually find your way back to the squad by hearing the sound of activity. Is that correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Although by this stage, the Corps had completed the second phase of the mission and was returning to the Wall.”

“I could hear them at a distance and immediately acted to re-join the squad. However, the forest was extremely dense and difficult to traverse without risking injury to my horse, which slowed me down considerably.”

“Exactly how far were you from the squad?”

“I estimate half a mile.”

Erwin narrowed his eyes a fraction, reading every inch of Armin's body for tell-tale signs. There was no twitch in Armin's fingers, no swaying or rocking back on his heels. That Armin gave nothing away was unsettling, almost as though all feeling and emotion had fled from his body and left behind an automaton; with no small about of displeasure, Erwin recalled that others had said similar things about him before. 

If Erwin permitted himself, he would've found the act impressive.

“And this supposed titan you saw...”

“It looked like a fifteen meter class and its silhouette appeared to be growing larger and larger, aimed straight for me. It was running so fast that I didn't have time to think -- I just reacted, unsheathed my blades and prepared to engage, hoping to be able to slow it down at the least before it broke through the lines--”

There was a sudden movement from the opposite side of the courtroom. Shaking, Eren had grabbed onto the rail in front of him so hard his knuckles turned bone white. He looked vaguely ill at the thought of Armin facing the titan alone. 

But the only things that Erwin noted were that firstly, Eren was a terrible liar and even worse actor on account of an equally impressive inability to keep his emotions in check, and therefore it could be reasonably conjectured that Eren did not know the truth of the matter, and secondly that Armin therefore had not divulged to his friends what really happened. 

Perhaps Armin had deliberately not told his friends in order to make his lie seem more convincing; he wanted explicitly to garner this type of a response to add legitimacy to his story. 

Erwin swallowed down the frustration at his own impulsivity: he ought to have allowed Armin to spill his knowledge regarding the village during the expedition, that way Erwin would've at least had some kind of evidence to work with. Nonetheless, it made Armin's enthusiasm to tell him all the more curious -- it had been that exciting and yet he'd managed to keep it under wraps from his closest friends.

“We have a conferring report from your team leader, Kunz Maler, that confirms this sequence of events. It further states: 'Armin has always conducted himself in a professional and respectful manner, and has never given any indication of ill will towards others. He acts solely for the betterment of the Corps and is a valuable asset to the team. He is a young man full of potential, and his initiative should be encouraged and supported so that his energies may be funnelled to more appropriate avenues.'”

For the first time since the hearing started, Armin glanced at the other people in the room; his eyes searched for Kunz and a flash of gratitude crossed his face briefly. Then his attention snapped back to the panel. 

Reading from a sheaf of paper passed along the table, Zackly continued: “Your commander has also offered to vouch for your character. Erwin?”

Erwin stepped forward and addressed the panel. 

“Armin had demonstrated his ability as a loyal and dedicated soldier. His work is of an outstanding calibre and directly contributed to the success of this expedition, and the Corps at large. He often goes out of his way to provide assistance to others, and has the universal respect of his fellow soldiers, both his peers and his superior officers. His conscientiousness has led him to undertaking tasks that might be overlooked by others, doing so without complaint and without expectation of reward or recognition.

“Prior to this incident, his instincts have been shown to be excellent and his judgment sound. I believe this temporary lapse in judgement is in part due to his recent transfer to a new position in a non-combatant team. He has therefore had limited time for readjustment to his duties. I humbly request the panel look favourably upon this young soldier and show leniency for his transgressions.”

Zackly nodded as Erwin returned to his position by the sides. “A further report from your commander outlines your many service achievements and exemplary record, and notes that this behaviour is out of character for you. In light of this, how do you plead?”

“Guilty, sir.”

“We will deliberate.”

The court was adjourned and everyone present trickled out. Zackly raised his eyebrows at Erwin and beckoned him into the antechamber. “Any further thoughts?”

Erwin thought of all the things he had wanted to add: how he'd come to rely on Armin, how Armin had supported him in his own way, how Armin provided the companionship that he rarely enjoyed with his other subordinates, and how as much as he hated what Armin had done, Erwin didn't want to see him discharged from service. 

But in the end, all he said was, “He's a good kid, Darius.”

Zackly nodded, seeming to understand the unspoken implications nonetheless.

Without a trace of remorse on his face, Armin accepted his sentence: two months suspension of pay, restrictions on his free time and extra duties. 

It felt almost like a let down.

* * *

“I have things to do,” muttered Armin, shrugging off Eren's hand on his shoulder after the hearing and briskly marched to the administrative offices. His companions looked at one another, heads bent together.

“Leave him alone,” said Mikasa finally.

Eren groaned and mumbled something under his breath before slouching away. 

Erwin watched Armin's retreating figure for a moment, then turned his attention back to thanking Zackly for his presence even though the man made Erwin's skin crawl. Zackly smiled benignly at him and heaved into his carriage. The last few years had added not only wrinkles to the man's face but also pounds around his belly and it showed in the way the carriage sat lower on its wheels. Erwin wondered if that was the life that awaited him in twenty years time: being ferried from place to place, plates of rich food set before him, people saluting and smiling politely. With a small stab of trepidation, he realised that such a life was already blending into his reality. 

He returned to his office troubled by this thought. On the way there, he passed by the library where unsurprisingly, he saw Armin's bright blond head among the stacks of books. Armin was shoving them aside with uncharacteristic roughness and cramming spare papers into a book bag with such careless force that they scrunched and crinkled. 

“Armin.”

When Armin didn't reply, Erwin stepped into the room but his presence only seemed to incense the other even further. Armin continued stowing away his belongings, this time with a markedly pinched expression. Erwin reached out to stop him by laying a heavy hand on the scrolls. Armin yanked them out from underneath but Erwin was quicker — he snatched at the scroll and refused to let go. Armin's fingers curled around the paper for a second, the only sound in the room was its crinkling.

“I didn't need your pity.” Armin spat out, without regard for rank or professionalism. 

“It was hardly pity.”

Armin looked up at Erwin, a challenging glare fixed in his eyes. An eyebrow quirked expectantly. “You're not a stupid man. Yet you expect me to be grateful? Believe me, from where I'm standing it looks a lot like pity and I certainly don't want to owe any favours, least of all to you. _Sir_.”

Erwin let go of the scroll and a sigh left from his lips. “Everyone makes mistakes and I didn't want something like this take you away from...from doing a damned fine job.” His hand formed into a fist as his voice dropped even further. “Turns out I need you more than I thought I did. To be honest, things have been a bit of a mess in your absence.”

Armin stared at him wordlessly.

“What I'm saying is, I want you back, Armin.”

“You want me back?” Armin said quietly.

“Yes.”

Armin laughed suddenly, a harsh cracking sound that Erwin belatedly realised was a clumsy attempt to conceal a wet sniff. “For what, so I can write your papers for you? That's all I'm good for, isn't it? Scribing documents and slogging through the research that you can't be bothered to do.”

“I was under the impression that the extra research was conducted freely of your own volition--”

Without warning, Armin exploded in anger. He slammed his hands down onto the desk with a thud. The fury that emanated from him was almost palpable as the atmosphere crackled with energy. “You're the commander! I can hardly refuse you, can I?”

A short, caustic bark of disbelief fell from Erwin's lips before he could prevent it. “Like that has ever mattered to you,” he bit back, blood quickening in his veins, mind reeling as the situation was spiralling out of control, as _he_ was losing control of himself. “You've clearly demonstrated your complete lack of regard for authority, and you continue to do so. You're always going to do precisely what suits you.”

“Then have I got impunity to do this?” Armin swiped his hand across the table, flinging several scrolls across the room. They littered the floor.

“You are being ridiculous. Grow up.”

“As if you've ever had any inclination to treat me as an adult!”

Erwin narrowed his eyes as his lips pressed into a thin line. The acrid taste of bile burned down the back of his throat as he swallowed. His nostrils flared. Then he gathered himself, allowed his face to slacken until there was nothing but a frozen mask, his eyes hard and guarded. His voice was barely above a growl. 

“Don't you dare pretend to be the unwilling victim in this, like this was entirely my doing; it was just as much to further your own purposes. You've certainly been enjoying the privileges afforded to you by virtue of your new position as my aide.” Erwin wasn't above using his height to his advantage and bore down over Armin. The younger soldier had grown a few inches over the years but it wasn't enough to avoid the shadow that covered part of his face as Erwin leaned in closer, eyes glittering. “I know very well what game you've been playing.”

But Armin practically snarled, feral, livid, refusing to be intimidated. “You're the one who has been playing me all along! Buttering me up to continue playing the dutiful, obedient, unquestioning soldier.” He spat out each word like it was poison. “Stringing me along to get me on side. _Bribing_ me.”

Armin struggled in each laboured breath, his chest heaving. Angry tears threatened the corners of his eyes. 

“You're the manipulative one. You're the cold, calculated one. You even admitted it yourself -- and what's worse, you take pride in it!”

The words taunted him in his head as Erwin pivoted sharply and stalked along the corridors until he reached his own office, and even then they continued to sting.

* * *

Levi slammed down the steaming mug of tea in front of Erwin then climbed onto the couch with an irritable grunt. “Fucking weak lot,” he groused, pausing to take a cautious sip from his teacup. His shoulders relaxed a fraction but his mouth remained in an almost petulant frown. “Nine injured. Two are faking though.”

“Whatever for?” With almost a fifth of his entire force out of commission for the next few weeks, Erwin wasn't in the mood to humour malingerers. He bared his teeth at the astringency of the tea.

“Idiotic, adolescent games that I don’t pretend to understand,” Levi muttered, with the air of someone who knew perfectly well what was going on but didn't have the patience to give it any further thought. “Like I said, weaklings. Didn't kill a single titan.”

“Yes, well, thankfully. Nonetheless, the titan situation didn't exactly play into plan.”

Levi snorted, crossing his legs rather aggressively. “Understatement. Fucked things up like always.” It was interesting how Levi took each blow to his squad as a personal affront, as though it directly challenged his training techniques. Despite the constant griping about his shitty brats, Levi was also reluctantly fond of them. 

“We shouldn't have allowed them to get so close. They riled up the cows, too.”

At that, Levi lifted an eyebrow. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully, watching for a reaction. “What happened to Armin not doing his job?”

Erwin sighed, absently rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “No, titans are titans. They might as well all be called abnormals for how unpredictable they are.” The prospect of dealing with the charts and lists on his desk grew ever more daunting. With a grunt, he cast them aside in favour of taking up in his armchair and took another sip of tea.

“Besides, it's not about blame. Armin was...” Erwin’s voice trailed off as he lapsed into thought once more. Nothing could erase the fact that Armin deserted, a crime punishable by dishonourable discharge. Perhaps Erwin had been too blind to recognise the danger in feeding Armin's obsession. 

“He acted as he saw fit,” Erwin finished lamely, determined not to flinch under Levi's piercing, scrutinising stare. 

A brief twist of the lips told him what Levi thought of that response. “I don't need to know all your secrets, Erwin, but don't insult me with such transparent lies.”

“Spare me the theatrics,” countered Erwin, tired but unaffected. 

It was clear that he ought to have nipped it all in the bud weeks ago, piled on the administrative workload to drown out any energy Armin might've had to go chasing after mysteries. Any other soldier and Erwin would've acted with surgical precision to cut away at the infection that threatened to overcome one of his assets -- and yet he had hesitated. Why?

“You're doubting yourself,” Levi said flatly, after the silence stretched on for too long. “That's stupid.”

Perhaps Erwin had indulged it, even _encouraged_ it, under some misguided belief that he was helping to shape Armin into a valuable tactician when in reality, all he'd done was drive the young soldier to veer off to extremes.

“Stop it,” Levi snapped, although not entirely unkindly. “Trust your decisions. We won the fucking fight against the titans based on your instincts, after all.”

“This is different.”

“Different because you're letting your emotions get involved?”

There was knowingness in Levi's even gaze that made Erwin hastily look away. 

That evening in the capital seemed like a fragment of a dream, fuelled entirely by wine and the thrill of success from securing funding for the Corps. Erwin's present predicament certainly had nothing to do with the growing realisation that Armin had steadily matured into a man, broad shoulders and lean but firm torso, the way Armin's eyes had burned with provocative intensity, how even the featherlight scrape of teeth against knuckle as Armin licked away each droplet of spilled wine had caused some kind of maddening reaction inside. 

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news but you've always been driven by emotions.” When Erwin opened his mouth to protest, Levi snorted. “A schoolboy's dream to make things right, penitence for your sins, guilt from your father's death. Doesn't sound like the actions of machine, does it? Look, Armin fucked up, sure, but plenty of other soldiers fuck up. Did any of them warrant such a strong reaction from you?”

“If you're accusing me of being unprofessional in the manner this incident has been addressed...”

But Levi just regarded him coolly, almost amused. He sipped at his teacup placidly. “If you're trying to drown me out with your formal talk, don't bother.”

“Armin was manipulating the system -- manipulating _me_.”

At that, Levi suddenly grinned. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes, a honeyed innocence as he asked in a low, almost conspiratorial voice, “Isn't that what you like about him, though?”

Erwin gulped at his tea in response.

* * *

Incident reports turned into financial planning drafts into formation changes, and the mundane stuffiness of his office did not help with the cotton-wool feeling inside Erwin’s head. 

He slipped on his uniform jacket, finger briefly catching on the silver pin threaded through the folded up sleeve. Tightness entered his chest like he’d unwittingly swallowed something not meant to be. Even as he descended the steps into the forecourt, the feeling refused to dislodge itself. 

Being a weekend, the area near the administrative buildings was largely empty. A sleepy sun drifted high above; it was warm for the time of year, and he supposed that the majority of the troops were enjoying the weather while it lasted. In the yard, Connie was running the young horses through their paces: he controlled each yearling with a long length of rope that swung, slack, as the horses moved around the ring in accordance to each low whistle from Connie. It felt peaceful for a moment, something that rarely happened to the Survey Corps — almost so much that it became a little stifling to simply passively watch. 

Some of the soldiers became attached to their mounts although Erwin had never experienced such a bond beyond an expectation that his horse would not fail him, and even then he often brought along a spare in case of emergencies. 

Still, Erwin found his feet leading him automatically to the stables where the pungent, sweet-bitter stench of manure wafted towards him with each lap of the breeze. A partially filled manure wagon waited idle at the entrance to the stable complex, with flies zeroing in on the cache. It was a different smell to that of human waste, somehow more tolerable perhaps because Erwin found it less offensive and more acceptable — more useful as fertiliser for the vegetable plot, anyway. 

He heard the squeal of a wheelbarrow in need of a good oiling and would’ve ignored it except it was Armin commandeering. Armin wheeled it steadily to the manure cart, sweat on his forehead, hair tied at the back of his head. So intent on his task not to tip the full wheelbarrow, Armin didn’t notice Erwin standing a distance away and Erwin didn’t make any move to announce himself either. 

All of a sudden, he longed for the quietude and privacy of his office. His steps quickened back the way he came.

From the window, now that he knew what he was looking for, he could see Armin toil away with the cart and shovel, watch as Armin brushed aside his friends’ offers of help to make the task go by faster, ponder over the validity of Levi’s words that perhaps there was more to Armin than just another soldier in the military machine, and that it was entirely because Erwin himself believed Armin to be worth more than that, to be more important than the rest. 

Erwin watched, the following day, as Armin went to the barracks with mop and bucket in hand and fell to his knees the entire afternoon, dipping hands into undoubtedly icy water drawn up from the well, and scrubbing at the exterior with grim determination. 

Cloistered away in his office, Erwin could imagine with startling clarity the intensity of Armin’s eyes when an idea had taken hold of him, a single-minded doggedness to see things to the end. There was a kind of beauty in it that Erwin admired, almost as much as he admired the line of sweat that ran down the back of Armin’s shirt, the shift of muscles across Armin’s shoulders with each movement of rag against panel. 

Disgusted with himself but unable to deny the prickle of interest that insistently tugged at him, Erwin allowed himself another few moments of confused contemplation at this horrendously addictive turn of events before turning away.

* * *

Rising from his seat to make his fourth cup of coffee for the day, Erwin was too absorbed in managing the redistribution of resources to notice the knock from his door until it opened a crack. There was a green eye peering at him apprehensively, then the gap widened to reveal a broadly grinning face.

“Eren, come in.”

“Good afternoon, sir. I'm requesting permission to conduct night-time exercises.” Eren clutched at his application forms as though they were gold. He looked so earnest and eager to please that it was sometimes difficult to reconcile the image with that of the terrifying fifteen-meter tall titan shifter.

 _But titans aren't active at ni_ \-- Erwin stopped that train of thought abruptly, a twinge of humiliation that he'd been caught living in the past. At least his team leaders had their heads screwed on right with their eyes on the future. 

He'd never felt particularly old although at that moment, he had a sudden sense of how the younger generation were quicker, more mentally agile, thinking laterally. For a second he wondered if he ought to follow Pixis into retirement, although the ex-commander of the Garrison had been at least two decades Erwin's senior. 

“Good idea,” he said approvingly and the young soldier beamed with pride, holding out the form for Erwin's signature. “Let me know how it goes. We might extend it to the rest of the branch.”

“Yes, sir.”

He ought to be nurturing them like Pere had said. Without doubt, Armin would come to be a great leader, not just within their little slice of the world in the Survey Corps, but also within society itself. The greatness within him was evident to all who knew him, even if Armin was not so readily accepting of it. Erwin would be a fool to hold onto whatever pettiness that festered between them. 

“Also, if you could call Armin to my office?”

“Of course, sir. Oh, no!” Eren warily pulled a guilty face. “He's in town. Seeing Theo's wife. Widow, I mean. He said you'd approved it?”

“Ah, yes, of course. Slipped by mind.”

“He said he’d only be a couple of hours. Should be back by three. I'll let you know you're looking for him though.”

“Thank you, Eren.”

When three o'clock came and went without sign of Armin, Erwin decided to put aside his ledgers and headed towards the barracks. The sickly sweet stench of disinfectant barely masked the sweat, mould and musk of a hundred young men with questionable hygiene. He glanced at the scrap of paper with Armin's room number -- down the hallway, in a quiet part of the barracks, away from the hustle and noise of the communal kitchenette. 

The door was propped ajar by a wooden wedge; a fortifying breeze slithered through the gap as Erwin approached. He tapped and the motion of it eased open the door even before Armin could distractedly murmur, “Come in.”

It was sparsely decorated, utilitarian. Wooden panels ran alongside the lower wall, capped atop by swirling white render that made a mockery of symmetry. A wide berth from the standard bed to the standard desk, a bare floor before the squat bookcase propped against a corner. Books spilled along swollen shelves and tumbled onto the floor in haphazard stacks. Uncensored tomes of military exploration, tales from the outside world, theories about existence itself — books that had once been banned. 

Armin lounged on the bed, back sagging against the slatted headboard and a book resting open on his lap. He looked tired, almost resigned, a look that didn’t suit him at all. His military harness and jacket were slung across his desk in disarray. With a wane smile he scooted to the edge of the bed but Erwin motioned for him to stay put. 

“I heard you went to see Theo’s widow.”

“My regular duties don’t recommence until Monday. It was in my own time.”

“I know. That’s not why I mentioned it.” At Armin’s vague gesture towards the desk chair, Erwin entered the bedroom and deliberately refrained from making a show of inspecting it. He sat, crossed and uncrossed his legs. “I wanted to say that I’m proud of you for choosing to see her, even though you didn’t need to.” He paused, then said almost to himself, “You didn’t need to at all.”

Bells sounded from the yard. Three thirty. Training exercises and theory classes would be disbanding for the day and the barrack would soon be overrun with the boisterous, rolling chaos of leisure time.

With lips pursed slightly as though trying to shape the correct response, Armin eyed him carefully, ignoring the laughter filtering in from the window. “It was the right thing to do,” he said finally, his voice neutral but betrayed by a shakiness as he exhaled. “It was the least anyone could—no, I’m fine, really,” Armin said firmly before Erwin could interject. 

“Armin,” Erwin tried again, faltering as Armin’s face turned red and crumpled. The only time Erwin came across the mourning was when they accosted him in the street; every encounter was as difficult to stomach as the last. A hollow dismay echoed inside of him as he thought of Armin’s resolve. “You mustn’t blame yourself.”

In a sound little more than a bitter huff, Armin laughed faintly and looked away. “You do.”

“I don’t blame you at all.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Armin said quietly. For a moment, it seemed that more was resting on the tip of his tongue, but Armin merely drew in a sharp breath and cast Erwin a sideways glance; it was only a brief look but whatever platitudes that had risen to the surface of Erwin’s mind promptly faded. 

The look was full of knowing, pointed, driven into him like a tent peg, as though Armin had seen straight through him and scraped out every lie Erwin had told himself, every last secret he’d thought buried. Armin knew of Erwin’s ferociously guarded secret guilt and it wasn’t fair. Erwin, the commander, never blamed himself — that was common knowledge, simple fact. 

It felt sordid, indecent to be so exposed. Erwin resisted the urge to squirm. He begrudgingly acknowledged that Armin was more perceptive than first anticipated. 

“Yes. And that’s why I’m here,” said Erwin, barrelling through despite the small victorious smirk that tugged at the corner of Armin’s lips. He had to wrestle out the words. “I want to apologise for my actions of late. They haven’t been befitting that of a decent man, let alone a commander. I haven’t been treating you as an equal. Instead, I’ve approached you like a problem to be solved but you’re not at all … a problem. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“A solution, then. To what?”

“No — the impetus, rather.” At Armin’s perplexed stare, Erwin cleared his throat. “That is to say, I ought to have tried to win your respect by being a respectable person.”

“Oh. I do respect you. In spite of everything. It’s hard not to when you’re…” Armin shrugged helplessly. “Commander, forgive me if it appears patronising to point this out but we’re not equals.”

Erwin struggled to consolidate his thoughts but they swarmed in his mind, flickering past him in mockery. Each decision he'd made, irreversibly pushing away that which he needed -- it was more than mere companionship, the fondness for the enthusiasm of youth, reminiscing about what had been. “Perhaps. But what is clear to me is that I do, on some level, need you.” 

“You need me,” Armin said flatly. 

“Missed having you around.” Finding the things to say was the easy part; saying them out loud was the actual difficulty. Once Erwin said them, they became real, unable to be unspoken. They could be held against him as proof of just how far he’d fallen. He steeled himself for the impact. “Missed _just_ you.”

“Maybe you just missed getting to see how far you could lead me. Perhaps it was amusing.” Even as Erwin shook his head, mouthed ‘no’, Armin continued hollowly, “You made me think that maybe you…wanted something more.” He slid a finger in between the sheaves of his book, running it down the length of the page until the book nipped him on the fingertip and snapped shut with a muffled sound. 

It was hard to face the listlessness in Armin’s voice; difficult to know that Erwin had chased away the enthusiasm that once raced along each exhilarated declaration. Erwin thought of the odd, burning fizzle that flooded through him that night in Mitras, the way Armin’s careless laughter had sparked something inside of him, that peculiar, haunting need to see Armin again. He bit on his tongue, hard, but the memory didn’t go away. Was it possible that—?

“Maybe I did,” he said, faintly, barely trusting himself. 

Armin’s eyebrows lifted just a fraction, the rest of his face inscrutable. “Did?”

“Do,” Erwin amended, then grimaced before he could help it. “I—Armin, I don’t know.”

“You see, even right now—why do you keep doing that? Encourage me and yet push me away in the next breath!” Armin’s breath was ragged. “Even now you’re playing games with me.”

“Armin,” said Erwin again, this time softly like a sigh. The corridor outside clattered as some boys jogged past, laughing, cajoling one another with juvenile bravado. How easy it was for them to take risks. Erwin eyed the wooden wedge that propped the door ajar and hated himself for wishing it weren’t there, and felt like a coward for not removing it himself. “I’m trying to be straightforward with you but it’s…difficult…when you —”

“I get it. That’s just how you are. Maybe that’s part of the reason why I— You can never fully switch off, can you?”

“I’m trying,” Erwin ground out. 

“Prove it.” 

But it was as though someone had nailed him to the chair — even if he wanted (and with an internal shudder, he realised that indeed he _wanted_ ) he couldn’t move. 

Armin appraised him from behind his long fringe, piercingly, then decisively cast aside his book with exaggerated carelessness. He slid his legs off the bed, quilt snagging with the movement and peeling open the stark white bed sheets like an invitation. With silent steps he strode to the door and scraped out the wedge with a toe. The door snapped shut with the next gust of wind. Noise from the corridor abruptly ended, as though they’d been shoved head-first underwater. 

The muscles in Armin’s back tensed, his shoulders stiff. He turned the lock. The air thickened.

A shiver ran through Erwin at the sight; he was on the cusp of something forbidden and to take the final step would ruin him in more ways than one. Yet Erwin remained transfixed, scarcely daring to breathe. 

Armin looked over his shoulder. “Show me,” he said softly.

“This isn’t the right time,” Erwin choked, jumping to his feet. Something akin to a headache buzzed in his skull. This was all so stupid, he berated himself. He crossed the floor in a smart march. Armin pivoted to stand before the door like a sentry, a blazing look in his eyes, full of challenge and intent. 

“No.” The force of Armin’s stare stopped Erwin from going any further. Armin was by far shorter but the sheer intensity of his presence was overwhelming; it slammed against Erwin in a torrent. 

Armin stepped forward, chin lifted. Erwin took an involuntary step back. 

The gap between them closed again quickly as Armin advanced, closer and closer, pressing, demanding.

“This is the perfect time,” Armin said, his voice dropping to just above a whisper but somehow it held more power than ever, each syllable so clearly articulated it was like being pierced by a thousand cannon fragments. “The only time.”

Without warning, Erwin felt the edge of the desk digging into his back. He blinked, frozen, as Armin pressed up into his space once more and arched an eyebrow. Erwin shot out his hand, a reflexive action, terror welling in him, panic flooding his senses. Armin’s chest was hot beneath his palm, his heart was frantically hammering beneath Erwin’s fingers. With a spike of alarm, Erwin realised it mirrored his own frenzied pulse. 

Armin smiled at him and Erwin (fuck it, _fuck it!_ ) snatched at a fistful of Armin’s shirt and pulled: Armin slammed into him, mouth on mouth, body on body. 

Erwin kissed him stiffly, horrified, desperately searching for a modicum of control but helpless within it. Armin was warm, wet, sweet, his mouth so inviting and addictive, the taste of him intoxicating. He wrapped his arm around Armin’s body and Armin moaned, yielding under Erwin’s touch like warmed caramel, limber and supple. 

His breath was hot and eager as they parted for a split second. It condensed on his cheeks. Erwin had closed his eyes at some point. He knew it was wrong but with Armin’s arms snaked around his neck, Armin’s lips lightly brushing against his own, Erwin admitted defeat to his desire and relinquished himself into the embrace. All he knew was that it felt good, like relief, like surrendering to a pastoral dreamscape in the midst of war. 

Armin broke the kiss. His lips were wet and red, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure. He nestled against Erwin’s chest with a sigh and whispered into the fabric of Erwin’s shirt, “I’ll go. I’ll file my discharge application tomorrow.” 

Erwin groaned, hand coming up to card through Armin’s hair. “Don’t be ridiculous, there’s no need.”

“I messed up. Really messed up this time. Got so blinded by this stupid obsession that it put the lives of others at risk. It’s unforgivable.”

“Messing up is part of learning and you’ve got plenty of time to gain experience.” He felt Armin’s hand slide down the side of his neck, along the plane of his shoulders, to trace along the outline of his stump. “I’ve messed up plenty of times before too — like this time, like right now, I’m letting my feelings get the better of me.”

“Feelings?” Armin shifted slightly so he could look up at Erwin. 

“My feelings for you. They…clouded my judgement. I don’t know, Armin, but you do things to me.” 

“But you want me?”

Stroking down the smooth column of Armin’s neck, Erwin craned his head to gaze directly into Armin’s eyes. “It seems that way,” he said.

In spite of himself, Armin reddened, unable to hide the smile that spread across his face. He hesitated for a second, worrying his lip. “Is it all right if — I mean, can I call you Erwin, when it’s just us?”

There was an unmistakable tremor of pleasure at hearing his name fall from Armin’s lips, like the first taste of sweetened wine. “You can call me by my first name anytime. That’s not so unusual among colleagues.”

“I’d like that.”

With a grin, Armin tugged him towards the bed. They fell together upon it, a tangle of limbs on a mattress far too narrow. The bed groaned under the weight of the two of them; there was a precarious dip in the middle slats under Erwin’s back as he lay down. It was so cramped that Armin rested half-draped over Erwin’s chest to avoid falling off the bed but Erwin enjoyed the warmth of another person pressed up against him. Even if his boots dangled off the end. 

“We should get funding for larger beds,” Armin mused aloud. “Once we barter off the extra resources.”

“Is that what you were doing on the expedition, looking to capitalise with a side venture?”

That familiar gleam in Armin’s eyes had returned. He propped himself up on his elbow to look at Erwin. “Will I be absolved of my sins if I bring newfound riches to the Survey Corps? Solved our concerns regarding finances for the next year in one fell swoop?” 

Erwin grunted noncommittally. “You said you found something.”

“I found the trail,” Armin announced. “The one that led into the mountains.”

“They looked fairly impregnable.”

“Precisely. No-one would ever think to look there. But remember how close the silos were to the forest? Such a strange location, don’t you think? Close to predators from the forest, damp and inviting mould, hardly practical at all — except there was a hidden path that the villagers have been using to transport goods to and from the real pastures, the real crop fields.” Armin clambered on top of Erwin, straddling him so that they could face each other directly. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes bright. 

“And they were huge, bigger than anything I’ve ever seen before, row upon row, sliced out of the earth like a staircase built for titans.” His hands dug into Erwin’s chest as he leaned forward, quite unaware that Erwin had taken the opportunity to slip a hand under Armin’s shirt. “It was beautiful, Erwin, like strands of muscle fibres streaming along one another, in all colours like oil film skimming the surface of an old puddle.”

A shiver went through Armin’s body at the touch but he didn’t stop. The words spilled out of him in an endless stream. Erwin’s mouth worked to refrain from smiling.

“That’s how they escaped the famine. The villagers had figured out a way to sow the mountains for decades. Imagine if we could take that knowledge and spread it, start cultivating lands previously thought of as impossible to utilise, how quickly that would reduce the burden on current farmers. We could feed everyone through this technology. The people have faced hardship for so long — this is how we show our gratitude!”

Armin finished with a wide grin, breathing heavily. His eyes were shining with excitement, practically quivering. “Erwin?”

“You’re going to have to explain that again.” When Armin scrambled to find his notebook, Erwin hooked his arm behind Armin. “But later.”

“It’s all right, I’ll show you. I took sketches,” Armin panted, struggling to free himself. 

“This is probably a pertinent time to acknowledge now attractive you are when speaking so passionately.” Armin blushed and allowed himself to be hauled back into Erwin’s embrace. “But please, for now, stop talking.” 

And Erwin placed a searing kiss upon Armin’s pliant lips, his tongue seeking out the heat of Armin’s mouth. Armin moaned, elbows landing either side of Erwin’s head as he pitched forward and sucked on Erwin’s tongue. It was frightening how easily Erwin gave in to each kiss, how insistently his body yearned for more. A faint moan passed his lips as Armin kissed along his jaw, licked down the stretch of his neck and swiped his tongue across the lightly stubbled expanse, just catching the edges of coarse fabric girding it. Armin’s hands started to tug at the fastenings on Erwin’s shirt. 

Without warning, Erwin snatched Armin’s hand before they could work even the first button. He sat up abruptly; Armin toppled off him with an indignant yelp. “Wait.” He gazed at Armin’s wide-eyed, startled face. His own features had also frozen as his mind worked furiously to catch up. “How many tonnes of crop would the mountains have yielded?”

“Are you serious?”

“Absolutely. How many?”

“I don’t know, a hundred thousand?” Armin stammered facetiously, shuffling forward on his knees to sit in Erwin’s lap again. “I thought you said no more talking.”

Disgruntled, Erwin flopped back down. “You can hardly expect me to ignore vital information like that.”

Armin pursed his lips, unimpressed, although his expression faltered and softened when Erwin’s hand returned to stroking the smooth planes of his back. 

Erwin tugged Armin’s shirt up, feasting his eyes on the elegant curvature of supple skin stretched taut over straining muscles, over the glorious arch of a pelvic bone. With a single, fluid movement, Erwin hoisted Armin higher so that Armin’s knees dug into the bed next to Erwin’s chest. Erwin ducked his head and fastened his lips onto the left ridge of Armin’s pelvic bone, sucking just enough for it to bloom rosy pink. He lapped at it, tasting the faint tang of salt and heat. He buried his nose into Armin’s side, inhaling his scent. Armin smelled so good that Erwin felt lightheaded. 

Above him, Armin panted and trembled. His eyes squeezed shut. “Erwin?”

“Yes?” Erwin murmured.

“Are you going to report this?”

Erwin pulled back. “What?” It was unexpected for Armin to be harbouring second thoughts so soon.

Nonetheless, apprehension was wrought across Armin’s face. His hands balled into fists. “The village. Are you going to tell people about what I found? I mean, that I—”

Erwin chuckled, shoulders shaking, and pressed a kiss into Armin’s stomach before lying down. “Your trial is over. The matter is settled.” 

After another moment’s hesitation, Armin settled down next to him, curling up against Erwin’s side. Erwin ran his fingers through Armin’s hair a few times but he could still feel the tension radiating from Armin’s body, the way Armin writhed uneasily with his thoughts. 

“Besides, it’s not for us to destroy something those villagers have spent their entire lives building up,” said Erwin gently. “We’re not going to ruin their future livelihoods.” He reached down and placed his hand over Armin’s, and laced their fingers together. He squeezed, and after a second, felt Armin’s corresponding squeeze back. It was feeble. “You’re right though. With these new farming techniques, we could help a lot of people who are struggling just to survive. And we could get better beds for the Survey Corps. This one has certainly seen better days.”

“It could have been yours, once,” Armin murmured. 

“Are you implying that I’ve also seen better days?”

Armin’s ribcage rumbled as he muffled his chortle into Erwin’s shirt. 

Tracing the crossbeams that propelled the roof high above their heads, Erwin found it strange to be brought back to his youth, strange how he could feel so alien amid the mundane familiarity. “It’s true, I haven’t been in one of these in almost two decades. And it is, if possible, even smaller than I remembered.”

Even Armin was beginning to outgrow the length of the bed. He stretched out his legs and the tips of his toes curled over the lip of the mattress with ease. “Can’t imagine you ever fitting in one of these.”

A memory prodded at the edges of Erwin’s mind. “I didn’t. When I was a fresh recruit, we had to customise our beds using bits of old plank salvaged from the training yard and repurposed blankets and so on to make additional bedding. You’ll notice that these beds have since been reinforced with heavy-duty nails but back then, they were quite easy to take apart. We did it gradually so that our team leader wouldn’t notice but by the end of the year, it had turned into a competition to see who could have the longest bed. It all started because Mike was growing so tall he could not longer fit into his bed anymore.”

“Who won?”

“Mike did, of course. Mine was by far the shortest; just long enough to fit me and nothing more.”

Armin snorted. “That doesn’t seem like you.”

“Precisely.” Erwin was unable to keep the smirk from entering his voice. “And because mine was clearly the shortest, our team leader conjectured that I was the only one not to have customised my bed. I was lavished with praise for being a model recruit and the rest of them were ordered to return their bed sizes to match mine.”

At that, Armin laughed out loud. “Which was nonetheless customised!”

“Well, what he didn’t know.” Erwin rolled slightly toward Armin, propping onto his side enough for Armin to lean forward and give him a slow, sensual kiss that lingered on the tongue. It was leisurely and ponderous, as though time itself had slowed like chilled molasses and he was merely dipping the tip of his finger into it. 

Armin slid a knee in between Erwin’s legs and buried in closer, his warmth both inviting and a comfort. His hand dropped down to roam across Erwin’s chest; his fingers were long and thin, knobbly, and calloused where a pen would rest, but his palm was hot and seemed to burn through Erwin’s shirt with ease. Those same fingers slid beneath the leather harness where the shirt was slightly damp and stuck to Erwin’s skin. 

“You hardly ever talk about the past,” Armin said quietly. “Why did you tell me that story?”

“I wanted to take your mind off the village.”

“Oh,” Armin said. He traced the straps until they reached the crosspiece resting just above Erwin’s sternum, and drew his attention to the emerald Commander’s bolo tie. Hesitantly, he touched the smooth domed surface. It practically glowed in the afternoon sun as though it too had a pulse of its own. “Then why did you mention the village just now?”

“Thought I should be honest with you.”

“Out of duty?”

Erwin ducked his head and captured Armin’s lips in another kiss, this time with a little more force, emphatic. If only a fraction of the things he wished to convey could be read through the slide of his tongue, his groan when Armin responded in kind, then Erwin would be satisfied. It seemed more efficient this way, more direct, like Erwin was channelling his thoughts to Armin with every soft suckle of his lips, the barest scrape of teeth. He lay bare all for Armin to interpret and could only hope that Armin would do the same for him. 

When they parted for breath, Armin’s chest rising and falling in a mesmerising rhythm, Erwin murmured, “No, just because I wanted to be honest with you.” He paused, considering. “Actually, there’s something I want you to be honest about. Why didn't you tell your friends about what you’d found out?”

Shrugging, as though it were all so evident, Armin replied easily, “I wanted you to be the first person to know.” When he was met with doubtful silence, Armin expelled a sigh and looked away. “You know when sometimes you tell a lie and it gets bigger and bigger, and more difficult to destroy, so you have to hang onto it, even though the burden is gradually crushing you. Even when you want to let go but doing so will hurt other people. Would hurt yourself.”

It seemed that there was more to the story but Armin wasn’t forthcoming. Erwin asked, quietly, “Are you talking about the expedition or about your parents?”

“Maybe both,” Armin whispered. The pair lapsed into a troubled silence for a moment before Armin broke it by snickering. “This is ridiculous. Guess I’m just as bad; can’t even lie here and enjoy this moment without thinking about work. Career first, huh?”

“This isn’t your career. This is your dream.”

Armin sat up, the back of his shirt crinkled and bunched around his waist, and looked over his shoulder. The sudden loss of warmth bothered Erwin more than he cared to admit. “The two seem inexplicably intertwined.”

* * *

“If you're finished with the inventory estimates, there is another matter I wish to discuss,” Erwin said as he pressed the Survey Corps seal into the melted wax on the envelope addressed to the interior. The success of their follow-up expedition for the remaining grain had brought out renewed interest in the Survey Corps and Erwin sought to quickly capitalise on its momentum. There was just one other issue that had been on his mind as of late and it involved the person seated on the opposite end of the desk. 

“Yes?” said Armin, who had already completed said estimates almost half an hour ago and had been amusing himself by reading the sycophantic letters now besieging the Headquarters. 

“I'm not sure if you've heard: there is a committee being put together for the resettlement project.”

Armin nodded. It had yet to be announced to the newspapers but the rumour mill was as strong as ever; several of the letters from various nobles also made reference to it. 

From his drawer, Erwin pulled out the letter he'd received a few days ago from the regional head administrator. He passed it across the desk for Armin to read. “I am willing to provide a recommendation if you are interested. It sounds like something you're more than capable of doing.” 

Armin scrutinised the letter silently then pushed it back. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“No, nothing like that!” Erwin hastily collected it again. “I just thought that there would be no-one better suited to the task. You have an inquisitive mind and an adventurous spirit. Anyway, I only brought it up for you to consider, there's no obligation at all.”

The corners of Armin's eyes crinkled. It was just as pleasurable for Erwin to watch as it was the first time. “I know, I'm only teasing. I-I've already written my expression of interest. In fact, I was rather hoping that you would provide me with a recommendation. Kunz has already given me one but I thought it'd look good if I had one from my commander too...” 

“Ah.” Erwin tossed the letter back into the drawer and from it withdrew a different letter; thick paper, the green wax with the Commander's seal pressed neatly across the flap. He held it out. “Well, no point in mucking around then.”

They shared a grin. Armin's fingers lingered as he reached for the letter. 

“Thank you, commander.”

Armin tucked the letter away carefully into his bag, then rose to his feet and straightened. He saluted crisply, unable to wipe the smile from his face.

“You're welcome, soldier.”

Then, as Armin collected his belongings and turned to leave, Erwin came around the desk. He stepped up to Armin, placing his hand on Armin's shoulder and drew him close, much closer than he would anybody else. When Armin looked up at him, Erwin found it hard to breathe. 

“I'm not trying to get rid of you,” he said, softly. “But I do want you to be happy. Good luck.”

“I know, Erwin. Thank you.”

* * *

Erwin dropped cordial excuses and left early from Armin’s farewell celebrations when the military discharge paperwork had been finalised, and left even earlier when it was time to say goodbye once more at the announcement of the first Resettlement Project expedition beyond the walls. The newfound enterprises of the Survey Corps ended up a grateful distraction that hooked him to the desk during the days.

It was only when, on the first day of spring, the too-rapid dawn broke upon the mouth of the horizon that Erwin found himself struggling against a dogged force that hauled him out of bed and across the short distance from the barracks to the city stables. Along the edge of his vision, the nearby gate burbled with gathering activity. He swallowed back against the tickling in his throat.

The city stables were smaller than those at the Headquarters: a mere four stout rows of stalls under a single roof housing fifty horses, a short courtyard plotted out the front, the entire cramped complex enveloped by a brick wall. Despite the early hour, the place was astir with industry; mostly carriage drivers tending to robust, thick-shouldered horses. 

Erwin circled the perimeter until he located Armin in one of the stalls, brushing down a handsome bay mare. He hitched an arm over the lower half of the stable door and peered in.

“Morning.”

Armin greeted him with a pleased grin. “Morning,” he said, setting down the comb and strolling to the door. Behind him, the mare shifted and nudged him rather hard in the back. “Impatient, this one,” Armin remarked.

“So is your horse.”

Pulling an exaggerated grimace, Armin went to turn away but Erwin grabbed him by the arm. A larkish tussle broke out between them for a moment before Armin allowed himself to be reeled back in, a little breathless with laughter.

Erwin's heart thudded in his chest; behind him, people sidled past carrying jingling pieces of tack and rattling metal pails of sundries. His lips parted but the things he wanted to say staunchly refused to come out.

Armin quietened but when the stifling pause stretched on for too long he jerked his chin towards the mare. “They tell me she's ex-Survey Corps but I doubt it. Probably Survey Corps bred but didn't make the final cut. Bit of an attitude but I'm sure we'll straighten things out between us soon enough...”

A hulking great brown horse was led down the row and the pair watched it go past. As the beat of hooves against stone receded around the bend, Erwin cleared his throat but the proper words had lodged themselves deep. He settled for a halting, “Be careful.” Then, with a scowl at his own cowardice, “If you're not sure about anything, best to dismount and go on foot. You're taking a spare, though?”

Thankfully, a discerning smirk rose on Armin’s lips. “Yes, I’ll come back safely.”

“Good.”

In that moment, the row was clear of people and even the ambient noise seemed to lessen, as Armin's face drew closer and tilted up. He was so close that Erwin could smell the soap from him cutting through the thick sweetness of fresh hay, the musky pungency of work horses and faint mustiness of stored grain. Each time Armin blinked, the sunlight caught in his eyelashes. Erwin felt utterly helpless within himself as Armin surged into the final distance and kissed him over the stable door, soft, lingering, much too chaste. Erwin’s lips parted with a sigh. Armin's tongue was slick against his own, the warmth of it so intoxicating it rendered him temporarily impervious to the pulsing of activity around them. Erwin was grateful for that door; he didn't think he could take the pleasure of Armin's body flush against his own without completely losing himself -- until Armin let out a small moan and suddenly Erwin wanted to kick that blasted door aside. 

A clanging sound interrupted them. They broke the kiss, breathing hard. Behind Armin, the disgruntled mare snorted and poked at the metal pail with her muzzle again. 

“Bit of an attitude indeed,” muttered Erwin while Armin laughed.

“Good thing that animals can't be tried for insubordination,” Armin said, stooping to collect the scattered brushes to put them back into the pail. “Although I'm not military anymore, I guess.” 

Erwin hefted over the saddle and blanket, and Armin positioned them both on the mare.

“You know,” Armin mused as he cinched the girth strap. “I'm not entirely sure that this isn’t a way for you to work around the no-fraternisation policy.”

“Highly flawed, with you going so far away.”

“I'm not gone yet.”

The leather of the bridle creaked faintly as Erwin gripped it tight. “You know. If anything happens while you're away, that is, if you meet someone that you like...” He passed over the bridle with portentous solemnity. “I mean, you have your entire life ahead of you and, well, it's really high time you accepted the accolades and gratitude from the public.”

“Erwin.”

Another pair of horses passed by in a clatter of hooves. 

A single look from Armin was enough to marshal the mortifying depredation of Erwin’s final dregs of resolve. Erwin flicked at the latch and tugged open the stable door, just enough to slip into the stall. He could practically taste his heart hammering in his throat, the frenzied pulse of his blood in his veins, as he backed Armin into the darkened corner next to the door. Hidden from view, he kissed Armin, hard, urgent. Armin met him feverishly, arms snaking around Erwin's waist, hands splayed across the tight strain of Erwin's back.

“I'm serious,” panted Erwin, when the kiss ended. He brushed away a lock of hair away from Armin's face, fingers tracing along the curve of Armin's clean-shaven jaw. “Don’t think too much of this.”

“All right. I'll keep that in mind. However,” Armin said, as Erwin bent for another kiss. “And I hope it's not too presumptuous of me to say the same thing to you but you're even more of a hero than I am. And you need to spend less time in that office.”

Erwin rocked back on his heels. “It’s rare for me to feel any inclinations towards anyone. To be perfectly honest, I never suspected it would be you. Although you were quite tenacious.” 

“I'm learning not to be offended by your questionable compliments.”

“You understand me, then.”

When their lips met again, Armin swayed against him; they fell against the wooden panels, a tangle of elbows and thighs, Armin’s face crushed into the crook of Erwin’s neck, inhaling deeply in a desperate bid to remember, the bittersweet finality of the moment resonating, echoing again and again, until the approaching spirited chatter of Armin’s friends could be heard over the top of the brick wall. 

Erwin extracted himself from Armin’s embrace and returned to the respectable side of the stable door while Armin busied himself with adjusting the bridle on the mare. 

“I'll be a proper man when I return,” said Armin, as casually as he could muster.

“You already are.”

Then Armin smiled at him, lifting his hand in goodbye. Erwin smiled too, walking backwards for a few steps to sear the image of Armin’s face into his mind, before turning away. His eyes instead filled with the sight of early sunlight gleaming golden across the glossy, wet cobblestones. His heart felt light, as though it might drift away with the Spring breeze.

The morning bells began to toll and the city languidly rose from slumber, and Erwin started his journey back the way he came.


End file.
